


Haikyuu!! AUs (x Readers) One Shots

by Gukskookies, Seokiloquy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AUs, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Body Swap, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Fanfiction, Fluff, Gang/Organized Crime AUs, Hanahaki Disease, Other, Reader Insert, Single Parent AU, There's literary so many different stuff in this book I can't tag everything, Unrequited Love, a lot of different stuff, haikyuuxreader, on going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 57
Words: 158,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gukskookies/pseuds/Gukskookies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seokiloquy/pseuds/Seokiloquy
Summary: Welcome to the world of Haikyuu!! Alternate Universes! Follow a book filled with twists, turns, fluff, angst, and cliffhangers told through one-shots and short stories.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Reader, Aobajousai Volleyball Club/Reader, Bokuto Koutarou/Reader, Datekougyou Volleyball Club | Date Tech Volleyball Club/Reader, Fukuroudani Volleyball Club/Reader, Hinata Shouyou/Reader, Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader, Kageyama Tobio/Reader, Karasuno Volleyball Club/Reader, Kozume Kenma/Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader, Nekoma Volleyball Club/Reader, Nishinoya Yuu/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Sawamura Daichi/Reader, Sugawara Koushi/Reader, Tendou Satori/Reader, Tsukishima Kei/Reader, Yamaguchi Tadashi/Reader
Comments: 62
Kudos: 587





	1. Haikyuu AUs: A Brief History, Information, and Requests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stories start at the next chapter. You can skip this part if you want, but reading it will give a little background and more information if you want to request. Thank you!

•──────⋅☾ ☼ ☽⋅──────•

**Disclaimer:**

This is a collection of fanfictions that use characters that aren't ours (except for the occasion OC). They may take place in settings that we haven't created. However, despite that, these stories we share are _original pieces_ of writing that are really special to us. They often include personal ties and lots of research. Although it has never happened (or at least we haven't seen it) we ask that no one plagiarize our work. And if you do see it, please contact one of us ([Seokiloquy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seokiloquy/pseuds/Seokiloquy). Thank you

•──────⋅☾ ☼ ☽⋅──────•

**The Brief History:**

My friend and I started writing these in middle school and we decided to write again. These are the newest ones and select old ones are being edited to post here, but you can find all of them on Wattpad. You can tell who’s writing what by the spacers or notes at the end. 

•──────⋅☾ ☼ ☽⋅──────•

**The Long History:**

We started writing these in middle school (which weren’t the best, but you can still read them on Wattpad if you want). [Seokiloquy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seokiloquy/pseuds/Seokiloquy) (Bacon) and I wrote over 100 one-shots over the course of 3 years. They were good and fun to write, but they are unedited and practically untouched. 

When the idea of writing them again was brought up between the two of us, we started a new book on Wattpad with new ideas and skills. 

After editing a few select stories and writing new ones, we decided to cross-post on Ao3, Wattpad, and Tumblr which will have the selected old stories along with the new ones. 

I, Kiwi, will be in charge of Ao3, while Bacon will post on Wattpad and Tumblr. 

You can tell who’s written what one-shots by the spacers and the ending notes. My spacers will have a moon and Bacon’s will have a sun. 

If you decided to read this, thank you and I hope you enjoy whatever you find here.

•──────⋅☾ ☼ ☽⋅──────•

**Updating Schedule:**

  * We have a new one....that'll be updated soon



•──────⋅☾ ☼ ☽⋅──────•

**Requests:**

  * Please message your request directly to me of my co-author ([Seokiloquy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seokiloquy/pseuds/Seokiloquy)) 
  * Please only request one story at a time 
  * If you have a more than one then please wait until your first one is posted 



**Request Form: (fill in were necessary)**

  * AU: _The world or setting the story takes place in_
  * Character(s): _Character of interest from Haikyuu!! (Can be ones that haven't been introduced in the anime_
  * ?Reader: _Specific character types (Default gender is typically Gender Neutral or Female (depending on the story))_
  * Plot: _General storyline or summary if you have one in mind_



•──────⋅☾ ☼ ☽⋅──────•

**Other information:**

  * I can't add _all_ of the tags in the tags section. Additional tags and warning will be added at the beginning of each one-shot so watch out for those
  * Cross-posted on Wattpad
  * Cross-posted on Tumblr (Click [here](https://seokiloquy.tumblr.com/post/619477472419921920/masterlist) if you want to read them there)
  * If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me or [Seokiloquy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seokiloquy/pseuds/Seokiloquy)! I hope you enjoy reading!



•──────⋅☾ ☼ ☽⋅──────•


	2. Paradise - Tendou Satori

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Regular/University 
> 
> Word Count: 3.2k

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The wind blew quickly through the trees outside the Sendai City Gymnasium. Boys of various statutes stood in groups around the area wearing distinct uniforms that separated them from the rest. Amongst the mayhem of excited volleyball players, a girl stood gripping a binder to her chest. As she typed quickly into her phone the girl’s nose scrunched before looking around the main lobby of the building. Walking up to the fold-out desk by the entrance, she approached the two girls handing out pamphlets.

“Have either of you seen a group of adults, wearing the same jacket as I am?” She asked, pinching her white jersey.

The girls pause for a moment, their brows pushing together before handing her one of the pamphlets from the table. On the inside was a map of the building as well as a list of teams that would be participating. One of the girls stood up from her seat and leaned over the table.

“Ya, I think I remember them talking about going in the middle of the stands to see everything,” she said pointing to the East side of the building.

The girl nodded and gave the two a nod of thanks as she tucked the map into her binder. Huffing, she walked past the bustling players in the direction of her group.

“Coach! You said to meet you in the park!” a yell rang above the voices in the stadium grabbing the attention of players and viewers alike.

“Ah, (L/N). Sorry about that. The wind started to pick up and we decided to head inside. At least you found us. Do you have the info?” the man said. He wore a matching white jacket with the word ‘coach’ trailing down the side of his arm in red letters.

“I do. A thank you would be nice, I’m the one that called all the schools to get their student information. That’s your job, Ito!”

Ito chuckles but says nothing more as he leads (L/N) to their seats. With the binder tucked under her arm, she slips her hands into her pockets and takes a seat next to the other coaches and administrators to watch the players warm-up. As the whistles blew for their minute warning before the started, the head of the program spoke up.

“Johzenji doesn’t have any third years, but keep an eye on their players for next year. Do you all have their papers?” Kawasaki asked as he spun a pen between his fingers. After receiving confirmation he went on, “Okay, one person per team for today. (L/N), you go with Ito. We will all watch the last game together and discuss it later when we go to eat.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Eh? Wakatoshi, do you recognize those jackets? I haven’t seen them before.”

Wakatoshi looked to where his teammate was pointing. A group that dispersed themselves along the edge of the stands were wearing white and red jackets that he wasn’t familiar with.

“I’m not sure, Tendou. Go ask the coach.”

Pouting, the third year swung his legs in the direction of his coaches, humming a dejected tune as he went. They sat on their designated bench talking to each other slowly as they watched their opposing team warm up. Washijo’s stare deepened the lines on his face and as he shifted his gaze towards the spiked redhead the teen shivered. Instead of speaking to the old man directly, Tendou turned on his heel to look at the team’s assistant coach.

“Hey, Saito,” he started, swinging his arm to point at one of the people in the jackets. “Who are those guys? I’ve never seen them before.”

Saito adjusted his glasses before staring up into the stands.

“Ah,” he paused, “I believe they are the ones from the volleyball program at Miyagi University. They’re scouting.”

“Scouting?” Tendou blinked.

Washijo tightened his arms across his chest with a huff, “Those idiots don’t know what to look for, they search for outliers.”

Saito let out a weak laugh wincing internally. I went to Miyagi U.

“Washijo, you do know Miyagi U is home to one of the top teams in Japan. It wouldn’t be wise to put incorrect information in the minds of your subordinates.”

Tendou slouched, waiting for the younger coach to continue.

“Tendou, they’re looking for talented players to give scholarships to. If someone gets one they either get to pay less for university or get to go for free so long as they abide by the rules of the scholarship.”

Tendou didn’t say anything at first but gave a small grin with a huff as he bowed to his coaches, “Let’s be sure to with this round then, hmm?”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“So, (L/N), what did you think of the players today?” Kawasaki asked, before taking a bite from the meat that was laid out in front of him.

The group ate in a small restaurant with people talking loudly over their meals about whatever was going on in their lives. Separated from the crowd - as per the admin’s request- they all sat lazily around a table with their shoes off and jackets draped across their shoulders. The thin paper wall didn’t do all that much in terms of blocking the sound from coming into their little alcove but muffled it enough to decrease the likelihood of distractions.

Unzipping the top of the collar of her jacket, the girl smiled. “Everyone was amazing, so I’m really happy I got to come and watch. I wrote down some of the players that I thought stood out.”

Reaching for her binder, the (H/C) pulled out a small notebook. She flipped the pages before handing it over to the volleyball admin. As he turned through the pages, Kawasaki took note that the student in front of him had taken during the girl’s tournament as well. Looking at the list of players of the boys she had seemingly kept her eye on, one seemed to stand out.

“Tendou Satori from Shiratorizawa? What made him pique your interest?”

The girl rubbed her thigh, letting her tumb dig into the muscles that froze in position. Taking a bite from the food on her plate, she used the opportunity to think of a justified answer.

“Satori is sharp, he may not be a prodigy but he’s honed his reaction time to the point of a sword. Outstanding middle blockers are hard to find because they blend in so much. They aren’t flashy like most of the people you scout. But when you find a passionate blocker or any player for the matter, even if you’re just observing from the sidelines their energy becomes contagious.”

“Satori? Are you familiar with him?” Ito asked as he set his chopsticks down.

The girl gives her coaches an awkward smile, “Ah, not really. We were acquainted with each other in elementary school. He’s hard to forget, but I doubt he remembers me.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Ah, Tendou!” Saito yelled out to the third year as he ran around with his teammates in the large gym of Shiratorizawa, “There’s a letter here for you!”

Tendou stumbled as he tried to stop his momentum looking over with a tilted head. His coach wore a large smile as he waved a thin folder in the air. The sight only confused him more. He took hold of the white binder and read the words that were written in bold red print along the front of the cover. His confusion isn’t eliminated when he opens the mail up though. He looked up at Saito.

“I didn’t even apply. I never planned...”

Saito’s smile dropped when he saw the look of distress that tore on the typically happy boy’s face, “Satori, I know your plans for when school is finished. But I think that this would be a great opportunity for you. You’ve always called it your ‘paradise’”

“Tendoou,” Ushijima had walked up behind the middle blocker with his hands flat at his sides, “why don’t you call them?”

Tendou hummed before asking Saito if he could take a moment and collect his thoughts. It was just over a month ago after they lost their match against Karasuno. He remembers laying down on the glossy wood floor of the large gym, twisting his hips and pushing his crossing knee into the floor along with the rest of the team for their cool down.

“I’m going to quit volleyball after high school,” he said to Ushijima, “I’ll be watching you on TV and brag that we were best buds.”

He bit his lip as he looked at the binder in his hands, reading through the various sheets that had been presented to him.

_Dear Mister Satori Tendou,_

_Congratulations! On behalf of Miyagi University, I am pleased to offer you admission to the Volleyball (Athletic) - Competitive Sports and Health program._

He looked at the page on the inside cover.

_Dear Mister Satori Tendou,_

_In recognition of your outstanding academic and athletic achievements, you have been selected and offered a Full-Ride Scholarship award to Miyagi University._

Tendou looked at the personalized contact information at the bottom of the papers and picked up his phone.

The volleyball division at Miyagi U was situated in one building. It had excessively large gym floors, that in all likelihood could hold four courts each when there were only two on either side. Between the gym space for the two teams was a raised flat platform for viewing practices at a higher angle that was supported by a mostly glass room that was used as an office for the coaches so they could still see the players while doing work. On either side of the partial wall, the two teams were stretching after a long day of practice when the phone in the office rang.

“(Y/N),” called Ito as he stood with the other coaches on the platform, “Could you get that?”

(Y/N) sent a thumbs up in the coaches’ direction, knowing that they were discussing the applicants they received for the program. Picking up the phone, the player continued with stretches as she talked.

“Miyagi U Volleyball Office, how can I help you?”

“Uh, hi. I received a scholarship from your program when I didn’t even apply? I just wanted to ask some questions about it?”

“Ah, of course, could I get your name?” (Y/N) asked as she reached for a pen and paper.

“Tendou Satori.”

“Ah! Satori. From Shiratorizawa Academy,” she smiled as she quickly noted things down.

“Do you know me?”

“Well, somewhat I guess. I’m (L/N), 1st year at Miyagi U. We met in elementary school, and I was the one that put your name forward for a possible scholarship. So, Congratulations.”

At his end of the line, Tendou began picking around stray pebbles as he combed through his memory for the name (L/N). He couldn’t remember much about elementary school except the times he played volleyball but Tendou wasn’t able to think of a reason to not believe the girl on the phone.

“Sorry, I don’t remember much about elementary school. But could you explain this scholarship thing to me?” He asked.

She noticed that his voice had a way of picking up and dropping as if his vocal cords were a roller coaster.

(Y/N) smiled into the phone trying not to laugh at the thought, “Don’t worry about it. Anyways, scholarships from my program go out to about six people every year, they are either partial or full-ride scholarships depending on the group. Students don’t apply for these scholarships because they are scouting scholarships. They are chosen by the coaches after watching games and deciding who they want on their teams, so no application is required.”

“And you put my name forward?” Tendou paused, “Why?”

There was a bit of silence on your end as you thought of an answer. Tendou waited patiently hoping that your response could brush away the stress that had been building on his shoulders.

“Well, I only gave a recommendation. Our school looks for special talents, and it was my coaches that chose you. But, as I watched from the stands, I could see just how happy you were to be playing and the passion you put into it. Like you were in your little world. I want to keep watching you play.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

When Tendou’s parents found out about the scholarship they were, to his surprise, ecstatic. Although his family wasn’t low on money, Tendou had planned to start working after high school and not spend money on university. His parents were initially against the idea.

“What are you waiting for? Accept it!” His mother yelled at him.

So, come April, a week into spring break, Tendou was standing at the main entrance of Miyagi U’s campus with a feeling of nostalgia as he remembered his first day at Shiratorizawa. With a suitcase at his side and a bag on his back, he takes his first step onto the school delicately placed bricks.

“Hey! Satori! Glad you could make it!”

Pausing mid-step, he turns his head to the call of his name with his brows pushed upward, “(Y/N)?”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Okay, Line up!”

Midway through April came the new year and with it came new teammates. Tendou wasn’t used to being separated from Ushijima, who was currently attending a school in Tokyo. But despite his immediate qualms about attending university, all his teammates shared a similar goal, making it easier to get along with them. Though a few did occasionally send him teasing glares as retaliation for beating them in previous years.

As he stood in line with the rest of his teammates and listened to his coach -Honda- explain the warm-ups that would be led by their captain, Tendou looked through the glass walls of the office to where the girl’s team stood. (L/N), who was now a second year, smiled up to her coach as she went through the same spiel that Honda was doing for their first years. Trying to keep his head tilted towards his coach, Tendou let his naturally wide eyes wander in the direction of the female wing spiker.

“Tendou, pay attention,” His teammate whispered as he dug his elbow into the red-heads side, grabbing his full attention. “We’re warming up now.”

Tendou nodded quickly before looking back through the glass walls. The girls had already started.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Only a few lights were left on in the gym. Focusing solely on the boy’s side where Tendou was hard at work. Despite being a middle blocker -and a good one at that- all players need to be well rounded enough to stay on for a full rotation. As Tendou was on his own, he worked on his serves continuously until he had to collect them all again.

“Looks like everybody left for the party. Mind if I join in?”

Coming out of the office, likely walking through from the girl’s side, (L/N) stands on the edge of the court with her bag lazily hanging off the tips of her fingers. Letting the bag drop, she lifts her hand, asking for a ball. Catching the ball as it flew in her direction, she ducks under the white line of the net.

“Scared, Satori?” She smiled.

From where he stood in the center of the court, he could see the change in his perspective in his mind. After regular midnight practices in an empty gym with no one but themselves to keep each other company, a once acquaintance turned stranger had transformed into his greatest ally. Looking at her now, the regular gym lights seemed to act like a spotlight giving him tunnel vision. Tendou gave her a curled grin.

“I understand you (Y/N). I have no reason to be scared.”

Practicing spikes and blocks gradually turned into a poor attempt at a 1v1 game that ended with them dropping to the floor in front of the net (She had won 17-15). Panting heavily with their limbs spread wide the two of them looked up at the lights that seemed to become brighter as time went on.

“It's 11:48 pm. Jeez Satori, you truly are a monster.” (L/N) laughed.

“I used to hate that nickname,” He said joining the girl in her fit, “But now I think it makes me even more intimidating.”

That didn’t help to quell their laughter.

“Intimidating? Satori you are the most childlike person I know, like a cute kitten knocking things over.” She panted.

“Cute eh?”

“Shut up.” She laughed again.

“(Y/N), what did you think of me in elementary school?”

The girl sat up, crossing her legs with a groan and turning to face the thin boy who still laid flat on the wood floor.

“I didn’t know you well, no one did. But, I always thought that your talent and drive to play volleyball was admirable, something to see, you know? Either way, I don’t think either of us would be here now if you had never picked up a ball.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“MI-YAGI DAIGAKU!”

The first official game of the year in Miyagi U’s official stadium had members from every sports team come out to support the boy’s team. Rivaling schools screamed at the top of their lungs, trying to drown out the other team’s support with their yells. The girl’s team sat in the front row of the seats, leading chants as they pointed fingers across the court to their enemy. (Y/N), although she chanting along and partaking in school spirit, kept her eyes on the game, focusing on a particular middle blocker who was easily staring down his opponents.

The game was at match point with Miyagi U in the lead, but the points kept climbing and with it the chant of players’ names grew louder. Every play was a chance to win. The ball soared over the net into arms the opponent’s libero, sending it directly to the setter with perfect accuracy. On the other side of the net, the players in Miyagi’s white jersey shuffled to their defensive position. Tendou, along with the front line Setter and Wing Spiker, set up a triple block to go against their Ace’s accurate spikes. Tendou watched the setter carefully along with the other wing spikers. Seeing his eyes dash across the net, Tendou followed, taking his two teammates with him. Coming off the Setter’s hands the ball followed the same path as Tendou towards the Ace’s oncoming spike. Mid-air, the spiker looked over the net for an opening only to make eye contact with an ecstatic looking Tendou. The ball hit the court.

As everyone cheered (Y/N) took her vice grip off of the railing before running down to the entrance of the gym. Tendou was celebrating with his teammates, who weren’t afraid to smack his back or ruffle his hair within the chaos. (Y/N) easily caught his attention though -along with everyone else’s- as she screamed out his name while barreling toward him. Tendou, surprised, opened out his arms to catch the hyper girl before she fell.

(Y/N) threw a toothy grin up at the younger boy as he easily carried her around, “You’re a monster, you know that?”

Tendou only held her tighter.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that (Within the AU) players that come from schools with a particular talent, Date Tech and Ubugawa for example, are the ones that typically get scouted to Miyagi U. But prodigies like Nishinoya, or quirky players like Tendou and Hinata do as well. - Bacon


	3. So This Is Love - Oikawa Tooru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Singer/Regular/Hidden Relationship  
> Gender Neutral Reader  
> Word Count: 1.4K+
> 
> Here is something that I wrote for class turned into and x reader - Kiwi

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

_August 2nd 2019_

As the days grew closer to autumn, each night became more like a fever dream.

Every night (Y/N) climbed the tree just outside Oikawa’s window, right up to the second floor of his house and knocked on the glass. Their brain was fried. They would leave their apartment during the late hours of the night only to sneak out of Oikawa’s window in the early hours of the morning, no matter how much they longed for sleep. However, nothing could compare the sinking in their chest, the constant feeling of being pulled towards a person they didn't recognize each time they stepped through the garden gate without fail.

Before (Y/N) started their ascent up the tree that night, they whispered to themself, “this will be the last time” and would wholeheartedly mean it. This would be the last time their hands were covered with splinters, the last time they would miss a meeting with their manager or record label, and the last time their body would shiver at the thought of getting caught. This would be it. 

(Y/N) carefully placed their shoe on the ledge of the window sill and knocked the words on the tip of their tongue. _This is done. We’re over. Goodbye._ But then Oikawa opened the window, let them in, and smiled. The same smile he gave when they first met, the angel-like grin that made his eyes disappear and teeth show, melting (Y/N) each time they were lucky enough to witness it. 

Greeting each other with a light kiss, (Y/N) stepped into his room. Oikawa closed the window and they spoke quietly as they moved to the bed. Only a few centimeters separated them as they laid down and intertwined their hands. 

“I finished the rough cut of my song today,” (Y/N) whispered, swaying their hands back and forth. 

“Is it about me?”

“Maybe,” (Y/N) smiled. They have always been told to draw inspiration from their life and to write out their emotions as they came. And lately, all their emotions were filled with Oikawa. He was like a drug that (Y/N) didn’t mind being addicted too. “Do you think we could go out?” 

Oikawa hesitated, and his smile faded, but was quickly replaced by a new one. “Like out on the street?” 

(Y/N) sat up, their hands still intertwined, but their grip lighted. “We could if you’d like…I would like it. Almost nothing is open at this time, but we could just walk around. No one is going to be out...so there’ll be no people. ” 

Oikawa shook his head and looked away. “Maybe another night… My dad got this rally thing tomorrow….I think the last thing he’ll want is his son being on a tabloid.” 

(Y/N) anticipated this answer and accepted the sinking feeling in their stomach, but there was something else. Years of meeting with untrustworthy people who would try to make them sign unethical contracts, taught them that they should look past people’s words and start looking at the person. Body language was harder to filter than words. No matter how much they wanted to argue against it, ruining the night would make it worse for both of them and their limited time together.

“Then how about we watch the stars? Like we did a few weeks ago? I think I’ll like that more than going out,” (Y/N) suggested hopefully. They gave Oikawa’s hand a tight squeeze and stared at him.

Oikawa’s shoulders relaxed. He scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up, smiling widely. He offered his hand to (Y/N) and said, “Sounds like a plan. After you.” 

(Y/N) took his hand and they headed to the window. 

The climb was a little harder than they remembered, they kept losing their footing, but Oikawa went up behind them, making sure they didn’t fall to their death. Once they reached the furthest they could go, they sat on opposite sides of each other and looked up. 

There weren’t as many stars as that first night, but it didn’t keep (Y/N) from searching the dark sky. Their eyes settled on the brightest one just past their own shoulder. The light from the star was barely visible through the branches of the trees, but the star was bright in (Y/N)’s eyes.

Oikawa placed a hand on (Y/N)’s leg to steady them when they violently turned to point out the star. Frowning, (Y/N) pointed over their shoulder and stared at Oikawa. “Why aren’t you looking at it?” 

“The star? I’m already looking at one,” he winked. 

Smiling, (Y/N) scrunched their nose. “That’s so cheesy.” 

“I’m a cheesy person,” Oikawa grinned, ‘It’s something you’re going to get used to.” 

This is love. It had to be love. The small, quiet universe they created for themselves, no distractions from reality or people. It was just them, their stars, and the night sky. 

Once they climbed back down to the window, falling back into reality, they found themselves laying on Oikawa’s bed once more. 

“Oikawa?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Hmm?” 

“Are you ever going to take me out on a real date?” 

Oikawa rolled over on his side to face (Y/N) and closed his eyes. “Probably...but I like our little dates here. Don’t you? 

“I do.” 

“Good,” Oikawa said, opening his eyes slightly. “What time is it?” 

(Y/N) frowned, glancing at the clock on Oikawa’s nightstand. “About 4:30 in the morning.” 

“My dad’s going to wake up soon,” Oikawa groaned and turned to shake his head in his pillow before sitting up. “I’ll walk you to the window.”

(Y/N) didn’t object. They never did, so Oikawa offered his hand one more time and walked them to the window. Giving them a light peck on the cheek, Oikawa whispered, “I’ll call you, okay?” 

(Y/N) nodded and began their descent down the tree. It became a part of their nightly routine to treasure each and every second they spent in their universe. Parts of them always wanted to stay longer, but as the hours grew closer to the dawn, they knew better than to ask because the answer would be the same every time they did. 

They dragged their legs down the bottom of the tree, past the lawn, and through the white garden gate. Their head turned back automatically to the window, hoping that they would catch one last glance of Oikawa’s deep brown eyes, but their stare only met that of the closed window and black curtains pulled across it. They couldn’t linger for long, with the fear of Oikawa’s father, the prime candidate for mayor, opening the door for the morning paper. They blinked away the chilliness of the summer morning and headed towards their car parked a block away. 

As they sat in their car, they would replay the night like a movie; the talking, kissing, and the stars. The conversations that could have been at a nice restaurant or during a walk in the park, light pecks that could have been exchanged when they were happy in public, and they could go to the planetarium where they could see millions of stars and constellations. 

(Y/N) didn’t want to keep it a secret anymore, it was killing them slowly but surely. They couldn’t even remember why it was a secret in the first place or why they chose to keep it now. 

They wanted the world to see their universe and ask how they made it together. How this phenomenon was something only they had.

Was that too much to ask for? 

The possibilities and what ifs flooded their mind and they came back to the words they’d been repeating up the tree, “ _This is done. We’re over. Goodbye._ ” 

They placed their forehead on the steering wheel and thought. 

So this is love…

Sneaking through garden gates and climbing through windows. Secrets and lying. Desperation. Is this all love has to offer? If that was it, then (Y/N) didn’t want it anymore, not like this. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...About this part....It was actually a namjin fanfic I wrote for my creative writing class to start, but I was running late so I edited this to be an Oikawa x reader...I might post this again as the Namjin fic here too so don't freak if you see if again... thanks!


	4. Bar Stool - Kuroo Tetsurou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Work, Group date, Unconfessed love  
> Requested  
> Word Count: 1.6K+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Congratulations.” _How long has it been?_

“Don’t lose contact okay?” _5, 6 years?_

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” _Liar._

Kuroo gripped the hairs on his neck tightly, grimacing. He wanted to turn around and leave, it was better than meeting those eyes again, the ones that had stared at him so kindly back then. Across the lounge, he watched her slouched posture relax into her seat. Too late now, he walked to the bar.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

On the 12th floor of a corporate building in downtown Tokyo, shrouded in yellow light a woman sat at her desk, typing. Hanging off the end of the wall of her cubicle, the girl’s friend pouted, swinging her weight back and forth. Ignoring her friend’s pestering, she continued to work.

“I don’t want to, Chihiro.”

“Please, (Y/N)? I’ll pay for your food.”

The rapid typing stopped for a moment, “Let me finish this up first.”

Free food had always been a soft spot. Ever since university, she’s had a habit of saving her money and jumping on her friends’ backs for food. Not that they’d feed her half the time anyway. The habit has hindered (Y/N)’s ability to indulge in even the smallest of things but has made her great at (unintentionally) getting people to buy her things. Typically small, like cheap food, but things nonetheless. 

Despite (Y/N)’s agreement, Chihiro didn’t leave, instead choosing to wait, knowing that at the next opportunity (Y/N) would likely run home.

Now here she was, standing in front of a bar, holding Chihiro back by her arm as they watched their other co-worker friends walk in with another group. 

“‘Hangout’, huh?” she said letting her short trimmed nails dig into the skin of her friend’s arm.

“I’m sorry okay? We needed another person to come and I knew you wouldn’t agree if I told you it was a group date.”

“Ya, I know. I have reasons for that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

Having none of it, Chihiro grabbed the woman’s arm, “Nope, you’re coming with me.”

Inside the bar were various tables and a counter for people to get alcohol from. Waiters and waitresses were walking around in white shirts with black dress pants and clean aprons tied around their waists as they held trays of food and drinks above their heads. Above each table was a vintage lightbulb that gave off dull orange light and probably cost more electricity then it was worth. On top of that steal pipe detailing added to the rustic working man’s home feel. It all just screamed, ‘let us take your money.’

Joining their friends at the large table, (Y/N) took the corner seat so that her back was to the rest of the restaurant. In front of her was an empty seat, which eased her mind a bit, but didn’t eliminate the fact that Chihiro said ‘date’, meaning someone was missing. 

Everyone was talking together rather than pairing off into their dates. (Y/N) leaned forward, balancing her weight on her elbows as to properly hear those at the end of the table as they threw comments in her direction. No waiter had come to take their orders yet, not that they expected to immediately, so everyone filled the waiting time with chatter. Stuck in a conversation primarily including Chihiro and her date, (Y/N) relaxed into her chair.

“Sorry, for being late. I couldn’t find a place to park.” 

Sliding into the seat in front of you was a black-haired man who’s hair stuck out in a way that was all too familiar. Her brow furrowed, creating a small crease in the middle of her forehead. He seemed to avoid her eyes as he greeted everyone. (Y/N) squinted, watching the man’s sharp-cornered smile crow on his face. By the time they finally made eye contact, Chihiro turned to her.

“(Y/N) this is-”

“I’m gonna get a drink.”

Chihiro sat back, calling after her friend as she walked to the bar, “We haven’t even eaten yet!”

(Y/N) only waved weekly over her shoulder, not turning around to fully acknowledge the group at the table.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Hey, Kuroo, what are you going to do when you graduate?”

The boy sat straddling his chair as he rested his head on his crossed arms on Kenma’s desk, who was playing a game on his phone. (Y/N), having asked the question, turned her attention toward the messy-haired third year as she sat at her desk next to their quiet friend.

Kuroo looked at her, a gentle smile set on his face noticing that he had her full attention. “I don’t know yet, not fully anyway just that I want to play volleyball.”

The girl grinned and threw an arm over Kenma’s shoulder, who responded with a grunt and an annoyed huff before looking back at his phone. (Y/N) paid no mind to the glare she received and looked at Kuroo, who was still watching her.

“You’ll invite us to your games then, right?”

Kuroo dug his head into his arms more, which only made his hair worse, and shot a happy chuckle in (Y/N)’s direction.

“Of course,” he said.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Hours had passed. (Y/N) spent her time at the bar, occasionally talking to the barista who was a very strong-looking woman who gave her water after every drink with a sympathetic grin. (Y/N) wasn’t drunk, the water and frustration kept it at bay, but she sure wished that the mild drinks could give her more of a buzz. She kept her back to her friends, only looking back occasionally to make sure none of them were tossing buckets out the open windows. Besides that and the barista, she spent her time alone with a half-empty glass.

The messy-haired -and tipsy- man stayed back at the group’s table talking with his friends and their dates, occasionally refilling his glass when the liquid inside ran out.

“Kuroo,” his friend called out with a swaying laugh, “you might want to go check on your ‘date’.”

The female barista who was keeping (Y/N) company swapped out, leaving her without a sense of motherly protection and company. Proper company, that is. (Y/N) scrunched her shoulders up to her ears, trying to eliminate as much surface area that the touchy drunk man could rest his arms on as he continued to try terrible pickup lines that were likely taken directly off of Wiki-How.

Kuroo wasn’t an idiot, at least he didn’t think himself to be one. He always had a high average in school -even with the drop once he got into university- succeeding mainly in science and business, and always managed to do volleyball on top of that. Kuroo never studied up on social sciences though, give or take a class or two in high school, but anyone could read this situation. 

Read it he did, and he didn’t like what he read.

“So, you want some company?” the man drawled as his fingers messily walked along the marble counter.

(Y/N) flashed the man an irritating grin. “Not at all,” she said mockingly, “I’ve got all the company I need right here.”

Opening her hand out in front of her, (Y/N) flicked her ring and middle fingers upward only for them to be grabbed mid-air from behind her.

“I”m sorry, but you seem to be giving my girlfriend a hard time. I hope you don’t mind if I step in do you? No? Oh good.”

(Y/N), believing she had a handle on the situation, was ready to turn and smack the newcomer upside the head. But when she took notice of Kuroo’s aggravated and slightly flushed face she begrudgingly stood down.

The man willingly backed off, hands raised above his lowered head as he turned for the next girl on his radar.

“Thank you, but I could’ve handled it.”

“But I wanted to step in,” Kuroo said, gently playing with the woman’s hand that he had yet to let go of.

(Y/N) sighed and grabbed her bag, “Come on. You’re drunk. Let’s get you home.”

Holding his hand in hers, (Y/N) dragged Kuroo through the slowly building crowd towards the exit of the bar.

“What about everyone else?” Kuroo asked, swaying on his toes as he walked.

“They can take care of themselves.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“You’ll take care of Kenma, right?”

“Of course, he’s my best friend.”

Dressed in his traditional black robe, surrounded by students and families alike, the three friends stood on their own. Kuroo held (Y/N)’s hand, squeezing it gently. Kenma watched his older friend with a quirked brow, as (Y/N) laughed at the tall man’s pleas.

“I L-” Kuroo paused looking at the girl’s smaller hand in his, “I’ll miss you.” 

“Pick your head up, won’t you? It’s not like you’ll be far away.”

“Still I-”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“You’re stupid. You know that?”

(Y/N) walked toward Kuroo’s car (which he pointed out for her), swinging his keys on her fingers.

“I know.”

“Glad you decided to admit it. Hop in.”

With the sun now tucked over the horizon, the temperature had dropped but left pretty colours in its wake. (Y/N) turned on the engine and the heater, letting out a small shiver. Kuroo set his elbow on the armrest console and watched as (Y/N) fastened her seatbelt. Noticing the man’s lazy posture, she reached over to buckle him in as well. As she tried to get the two parts together, Kuroo let his head hang low so that his forehead landed on the woman’s shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“I’ve missed you so much (Y/N),” he whispered.

(Y/N) cupped his chin, taking the weight of his head off her shoulder before leaning back into the seat and grabbing the leather wheel.

“I missed you too, Tetsu.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•


	5. The Flowers in the Park - Yamaguchi Tadashi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I haven’t written something like this in a while so hopefully, it lives up to my other one-shots. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! - Kiwi
> 
> AU: Hanahaki Disease  
> FEM! Reader  
> Word Count: 1.2K+

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

There were a lot of things that Yamaguchi would give up in this world. 

He'd give up seeing the sunset without much hesitation. He could probably live with the idea of giving up forever and end with an eternity full of nothingness despite Tsukishima’s efforts to tell him otherwise. 

There was one thing he couldn’t give up and that was you. The gleam in your eyes when you talked about something that made you happy was his favourite thing in the entire world, other than volleyball. He’d just let you talk until you run out of things to say because he didn’t have the heart to stop you. 

It was definitely one of his flaws, but that he enjoyed having.

It was pouring rain when you met, strangely enough, at a gas station on a Friday afternoon, even though neither of you knew how to drive, and the rain had caused both of you to detour. It was more fate than a coincidence, Yamaguchi always thought as he saw you for the first time, a transfer student to Karasuno clutching a brand new uniform in hand. 

He introduced you to the volleyball team and you became fast friends. However, Tsukishima never liked you and you didn’t know why. 

“You’re an idiot,” Tsukishima said, taking a bite out of his bun. They were both fresh out of volleyball practise, tired, hungry, and walking home in the light breeze of the wind. 

Yamaguchi laughed, giving him a nervous smile in return. 

Tsukishima stopped. “(Y/N) was watching practice for a bit again.” 

Yamaguchi turned around and smiled, steadying his bike as he slowed to halt. ”I know! It was great! She cheered when I hit the serve. Too bad she had to leave early for dinner. Maybe next time she could stay for longer.” 

Tsukishima paused. “Have you ever heard of the hanahaki disease before?”

His eyebrows shot up. “The flower thing? I’ve heard of it. People say it’s only a rumor though.” 

“What if it’s not?” 

“It is,” Yamaguchi reassured, giving him a small smile. “Come on, let’s go back home.” 

“I remember you telling me that you’d give up anything for her to like you back.” 

Yamaguchi’s cheeks burned red. “Tsukki… we’re just friends. I don’t remember saying that.” 

Tsukishima took a step closer to Yamaguchi, ignoring his words. “What if I can get her to like you?” 

“That’s not really how it works.” Yamaguchi blushed. ‘ Just...Forget about it okay? Don’t...Just....I’m going to go home. Don’t do anything. Please.” 

He put his helmet on his head and pushed off the bike. 

Tsukishima sighed. Hanasaka was real. It was real to him. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Over the next week, Tsukishima stuck to you like glue and that was weird. Having this giant person following you around made you nervous. Most of your conversations hung around the topic around Yamaguchi, which you found odd because most of the stuff Tsukishima could just ask Yamaguchi himself. 

Something was off. 

“No offence,” you said, putting down your chopsticks. “But why are you following me around? I’m pretty sure there are like 100, or at least 12, other people you’d rather hang out with than me.” 

Tsukishima took a bite of his rice. “No reason.” 

You rolled your eyes and reached out to take away his chopsticks, but he was faster and got out of your range. ”Just tell me,” you whined. “I’m pretty sure that Yamaguchi was looking for you every day. You should sit with him.” 

“You should sit with him,” Tsukishima mumbled, stabbing his chopsticks into his remaining rice. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked. 

Tsukishima looked up, a glare sparking in his eyes. “You are so clueless, you don’t even see it.” 

“Excuse me? See what?” You said. You truly had no idea what he was talking about. You haven’t spoken to Yamaguchi in about a week, and you had plans to marathon movies on Friday that hopefully went through the weekend, so you didn’t see a problem, you didn’t see any possible problems. 

Tsukishima signed and rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “Do you really think that ‘just a friend’ would wait for you after your club activities to walk you home even though they live in the opposite direction that you do? Do you think that ‘just a friend’ would buy you chocolate every single valentine’s day and have it not mean something more? Do you really not think that someone, like Yamaguchi, would risk anything to have you see him as more than just a friend?” 

You looked down at your half-eaten food, suddenly not feeling that hungry anymore. You didn’t see Yamaguchi that way, and it seemed like Tsukishima saw it before you did. “We’re just friends, Tsukishima. I don’t think it’s going to be anything more than that.” 

Rolling his eyes, Tsukishima sat up, lunch in hand, and said, “I know.” He took a deep breath and his eyes changed, instead of anger, they looked almost sad. “You don’t have to tell me that, but you need to tell Yamaguchi. Even if you don’t know it, you’re stringing him along and that needs to stop.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“Hey (Y/N)! Are you ready to go? I downloaded all of the movies and we are ready to go,” Yamaguchi asked, walking up to you, a large grin planted on his face. 

You swallowed, “I need to tell you something.” 

His smile faded and turned nervous. “That doesn’t sound good. What’s wrong?” 

“I...umm...I talked with Tsukishima yesterday.” 

“Oh. And what did you talk about?” 

“You actually.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah,” you said. You were swaying side to side, lending on your left foot then your right. “Do you like me, Yamaguchi? Like more than friends?” 

Yamaguchi blushed and put his hand on his neck. “He told you that?” 

“Kind of, he had to spell it out for me, but thinking about it, I see it myself.” 

“Oh. And…?” 

You gave him a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes or heart, and said, “I really like having you as my friend, Yamaguchi, but I don’t like you that way.” 

Yamaguchi took a step back, his hands shaking. “Oh.” 

“I would still like to be friends with you if that’s okay,” you rushed to say. 

“Oh. Okay. Sure.” 

The school hallways never seemed so quiet, but he could distinctly hear the sound of flowers blooming. 

“Can we rain check the movies through?” Yamaguchi whispered. “I think there’s a volleyball meeting.”

You were hesitant and wanted to say more, but eventually agreed and walked away. At least you were still friends with him. 

You couldn’t ask for anything else. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Yamaguchi walked through a park that day. There wasn’t one near his house, but he always liked the smell of the fresh air and flowers. 

But today, there was no point to the scents around him when he was getting a lung full of it with every breath. 

Maybe, today, he walked through the park so his flowers would blend in with the real ones. 

Friends. Still friends. 

There were a lot of things that Yamaguchi would give up in this world. 

He would give up volleyball. 

His love. 

His life. 

And himself. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•


	6. Mind Boggling Pt.1 - Miya Atsumu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU: At particular times (Once a year/ certain age/ hours/ or randomly) soulmates swap bodies for some time. (Specifics vary from story to story but I love this au wholeheartedly)
> 
> Requested
> 
> Word Count: 2K

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The rules were set for soulmates, whether they happen to have a tattoo, be colourblind, or even have wings or tails sprouting out of their bodies, rules were set. So why the hell were you so terrified? Though your soulmate quirk was a little hard to distinguish at a young age because of its nature, it was easily identified once you got a little older.

Body swap, where after a person turns 17 their mind is transferred to their soulmates for some time at any time. Though the combinations can vary from person to person, swapping only ever happens after a person turns 17. Should a soulmate happen to be below the age of 17 while the other is of age or above, the older will not have full control of the other’s actions and the younger will not be aware of the older’s presence, this only lasts momentarily before they are returned to their own body. In some cases, nothing happens until the youngest is of age as well.

Now, why were you scared? Well, when your birthday happens to be at the end of the year, the possibility of your soulmate seeing you do things you didn’t want them to, becomes increasingly high. All your friends were having fun drawing on their arms to communicate, or fiddling with their assigned jewellery (because they didn’t have a physical manifestation). You, on the other hand, sat at the side of the classroom, staring out the window to the falling snow outside trying to prevent yourself from doing anything embarrassing until the time came for you to turn 17.

Hitomi, one of your friends, sat on the desk behind your seat and played with your hair. In your mind, she got a lucky match in comparison to most. On her inner wrist was the full name of her soulmate. Whenever you complained about your quirk she would smack your shoulder saying something about she wished could live in someone else’s body for a day.

“So, are you going to decorate your room?” Hitomi asked as her nails picked at a pesky knot at the ends of your hair.

You laughed, “Ya right. I may be worried about the swap thing, but changing how my room looks isn’t going to be worth the effort.”

Finally clearing the tangled mess, Hitomi leaned back with a sigh.

“Are you at least going to write something? So they can know a bit about you?”

You fiddled with the pencil in your hand, spinning it between your fingers. You shook your head. The chances of things going the way you wanted were so low that eventually, you gave up trying to make them go your way. One of your fingers flicked too fast, shooting the pencil across the room.

“Even if I wanted to, I just lost my pencil.”

“Karma.”

“How the hell is that karma?”

“I don’t know, ask Karma.”

You sighed, letting your head fall into your hands that began to massage the skin along your hairline. These next few days were going to be rough.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You had always conjured up a story of how your first swap would go. Something like waking up in their bed one morning on a Sunday with all of their things being laid out in a way that made it easy for you to learn about them. Maybe, they’d have a letter on their desk or taped to a mirror for you to read.

Nope. Why would life take it easy on you of all people?

You fell asleep in class, which admittedly was your fault for going to bed so late. Even though the teacher wasn’t engaging enough to keep your attention on her for more than a few seconds at a time. But by the end of the period, your classmates would wake you up for lunch, no problem. At least that’s what you had thought when you closed your eyes.

That’s what you expected, but when you opened your eyes to loud cheering and high pitched squeaking you were more than a little confused.

First of all, it was extremely bright. Too bright. You thought your eyes were closed before. But now, as they squinted to adjust to the light, they were so tightly glued together that it hurt your nose. Next, it was loud. Much louder than your second-year beginner English class where the teacher insisted that no one spoke, and acted upon that rule. Lastly, you were standing in front of an open mesh wall with two glaring eyes drilling into your forehead.

You staggered back, pulling your hands up to your chest. It was then you noticed how tall you were standing, and how your centre of gravity was way off. Your body also felt bulkier, like your normal skin had expanded to a place it hasn’t been before. A hand landed on your shoulder.

“Nice set, Tsumu.”

“Huh?” behind you was a boy, standing eye level with you with hair that had been bleached to a mousey brown, almost silver colour. His eyes were open but tired, making the rich brown colour seem dull. You felt attached to him immediately. Even with his somewhat silent demeanour, the boy seemed welcoming. He was panting and sweating. Realizing this, you could feel the sweat roll down the side of your face.

The boy tilted his head, “You’re a little out of touch, did those freaks scare you?”

You looked to where the boy pointed, the copper top and his black-haired friend were still glaring at you.

“Why? Why are they glaring at me?” you fiddled with your now noticeably larger hands, now staring at their size and red blotchy colour.

“You okay, Atsumu?”

Another boy walked up to your side. His hair was parted in the center, framing his face that held an expression of general disinterest and exhaustion. He had an air of confidence surrounding him, even if it didn’t show through his slouched back, and his dark eyes seemed too analytical for any lazy person.

“Who?”

“Osamu, get the coach.”

The first boy nodded, waving over to the side where two men sat, watching. The addressed man called the ref, who stood atop a sort of podium next to the large net. The man blew his whistle and you were quickly ushered off in the coaches’ direction. As the head coach continued to watch the game progress the assistant coach with choppy black hair guided you to sit down.

Your knees pushed together tightly. Rather uncomfortably really, you let your legs relax when you noticed this. Your hands continued to fidget, picking under the nails as you watched the sport continue before you. Volleyball, you concluded, how you didn’t notice earlier was beyond you but it was likely the gravity of the situation you were in distracting you.

“You okay Atsumu?” the man asked, taking the seat next to you.

Your brow furrowed and your head tilted.

“Ya, here’s the thing, who’s Atsumu?”

Just as the man was about to speak, the scenery changed. Everything melted into new shapes, never really looking like something that didn’t exist but never being a fully-fledged object until everything froze back into place. Hitomi glared down at you.

“What an asshole,” she scoffed.

“Well, thanks I guess?”

Hitomi scoffed and glared in your direction before starting to pace around. You looked around the classroom. It was empty, lunch probably started a few minutes ago. Hitomi spoke, brushing a hand through her hair, but didn’t stop walking.

“Your soulmate’s an ass.”

You tilted your head with a nod, “Did you at least give him my name?”

The girl stopped walking and looked away from you.

“It didn’t come up. Not that he seemed all that interested anyway.”

“Not surprised,” you said, pressing your finger into your wrist. Your pulse was up. “He was in the middle of a volleyball match.”

“Please tell me he’s at least muscular.”

You sighed and slouched in your chair. Turning a bit to look outside at the gently falling snow again. You paused.

“Ya, he is.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

This happened a few more times, always at the most inconvenient, and you both overtime got to learn about each other through your pears. You found out that the first person you had met was Atsumu’s twin, although their personalities were different according to their teammates. Atsumu managed to open your phone and find a few of your photos and put in his number. These swaps happened often. Often enough that your friends could tell who was who before either of you spoke.

Whenever you happened to show up during practice, Atsumu’s teammates would help you learn the sport. It came relatively easy to you thanks to Atsumu’s muscle memory and build, but from the team’s perspective, it was more of a humorous game as they watched their talented teammate stumble around and make mistakes that he normally wouldn’t.

It was like this for a while. Until you found out your team was participating in the Hyogo Interhigh Preliminaries. You signed your and Hitomi’s names up to support your team at the tournament.

“Shouldn’t you be cheering for your boyfriend’s team?” Hitomi teased, elbowing you in the ribs.

“I will when they have a game going on.”

Despite having never talked in person over the past couple of months, the two of you did talk regularly after Atsumu put his number on your phone. You had a plan for how the day would go. First, you would watch and cheer on your school’s team. Then, once you got the chance, you’d sneak off to see the Inarizaki boys play. By the end of the game, that they hopefully win, you would run down onto the pitch and hug him.

You were delusional and you knew it.

Inarizaki’s supporting band was intense and manipulative. You had gotten to the game a little late, running from your school’s game that just wrapped up. You walked down the steps of the stands to stand next to two girls that leaned against the bannister. Despite not knowing the school’s cheerleading practices, you did your best to follow along. Up until Atsumu was up to serve.

His eyes were the same as Osamu’s, staring intently at the team across from him that shook from leg fatigue. Sweat had managed to get into his hair, making it look a bit greasy. And blood had rushed into his arms, making his veins more prominent, even from a distance.

You cheered with the girls next to you just as the band went silent. Atsumu glared up in your direction. You froze watching as he turned his attention back towards the net and served, leading to their point and win. As the band around you cheered you grumbled, crossing your arms.

“Jeez, you are an asshole, huh?” you mumbled, turning to walk back up the stairs to find Hitomi.

You had hoped to leave the tournament that day without interacting with your soulmate.

“Here again? Seriously?” in front of you was Osamu who chuckled at the sound of his brother whining.

“Hey, (Y/N). We won,” he said, raising his hands in the air slightly.

You crossed your arms, “I know. I’m here.”

Pointing up at the stands where your body was now spinning around to see where they were. You continued to talk with an annoyed tone.

“And right about now Atsumu is going to realize that he gave me a death glare not a moment ago.”

Osamu started to laugh louder, watching his brother, in your body, begin to grip your hair and squat in panic as if he wasn’t wearing a skirt.

“He’s an idiot sometimes, please be patient.”

You nodded, “I know. I’m just waiting for him to make eye contact.”

He did, and he winced, sending a meek wave in your direction. You pinched your lips together in a sarcastic smile and raised your brows. Lifting your hand, you sent a single wave in his direction.

“You’re going to punch yourself aren’t you?” Osamu asked as you both started to walk off the gym and out of view of Atsumu’s frightened stare.

You cracked the knuckles of Atsumu’s hand.

“You bet.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•


	7. Long Enough - Sugawara Koushi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a bit short...but I don’t think it needed to be long...I hope you enjoyed it. It definitely took turn from the last one-shot I wrote. - Kiwi
> 
> AU: Regular/Confession  
> Gender Neutral Reader  
> Word count: 843

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Sugawara has been planning to ask you out for some time now. You’ve been friends since, well, since forever and he decided that now was the time. Now, in your last year of high school, he was going to ask you out, and you were going to say yes. Everyone, including you, knew you were going to say yes. 

Most people thought you were together anyways, but you were no more than friends. 

“You two have waited long enough,” Dachi had said. “You deserve this.” 

However, there was one roadblock. Your parents. 

Despite your everlasting friendship and all of the times Sugawara has proven to himself the worth of your time and love, intentionally or unintentionally, your parents didn’t like him. They didn’t outwardly hate him, it’s not like they told it to him directly, but it was the little things like not smiling at him when he entered your house or not offering to let him stay for dinner, that made the difference. 

Your parents were always the one reason Sugawara was hesitant to ask you out. 

But none of that mattered to you. 

You loved him all the same. No matter what they said to you, or how they openly disapproved of your friendship behind closed doors, he was your favourite person in the entire world even if he did the most unlikely and, frankly, a little risky things. 

Like the first time he asked you out. 

You were eating dinner with your family. They were talking about their day, mundane things like their transit to work and complaining about their co-workers, but that only made you think about Sugawara more. It made you think of the way he would talk to you, with so much joy and calmness in his voice that you thought you would listen to forever. 

The doorbell rang. 

You excused yourself from the table and walked a little way to the door. Luckily, for both you and Sugawara, a wall blocked the dining room table from their sight. 

You smiled when you saw him and was halfway to saying something when he placed a single finger on his lips. You furrowed your eyebrows together and looked back toward the table past the wall. Your mind settled as you heard your parents go back to a normal conversation. 

His hands were still behind his back as he looked at you. He smiled brightly and you smiled back. You pointed behind his back and titled your head. And just like a cliche film, he pulls out a big white notebook. 

You rolled your eyes, but your smile only widened. 

_Cliche right?_ The first notecard said. 

He turned the card over. 

_Believe it or not, I had better ideas._

You put your hand against your mouth to stiffen your laugh. 

_To ask you tomorrow or even call you. But none of that seemed right._

You raised your eyebrow. Ask you what? 

_It couldn’t wait._

He seemed nervous as he flipped to the next card. His hands were shaking a bit and his smile grew a little weary. 

_I’m….kind of in love with you_

Your eyes watered as you read the card and took a step forward. 

“Wait,” Sugawara whispered. His hands trembling, he turned over the next card. 

_I know I’m not supposed to say that yet...at least not until our near future_

_But I’ve known it for years_

_And I hope you did too_

He put the cards down and whispered, “Do you want to go out with me?” 

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for the longest time,” you said, taking the steps forward to get closer to him. 

“You could’ve just asked me yourself,” he laughed. 

“I know,” you laughed back. “But every time I tried, I either got lost in our conversation or was too nervous to ask.” 

“Actually, Dachi pushed me to ask you,” Sugawara admitted, finally smiling like his normal self. “I was planning on asking you a couple of weeks ago, but I was too nervous too. He told me to do it now or I’ll never do it.” 

“I should thank him the next time I see him then.” 

Sugawara smiled warmly and took another step forward. Only a couple of centimetres separated the two of you. “Is that a yes?” 

“(Y/N)?” Your mom called. “What’s going on? Who’s at the door? You’ve been there for a while.” She poked her head around the corner of the wall and her smile faded a bit as she saw Sugawara. 

“Oh, hello. What brings you to our house?” she asked, walking towards the door. 

“Hello,” Sugawara said, bowing slightly. “I wanted to ask (Y/N) something.” 

“It couldn’t wait for tomorrow?” 

“No,” you said, turning back to Sugawara and grabbing his hand lightly. “It really couldn't. We’ve waited long enough.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•


	8. Two Timer - Akaashi Keiji & Kozume Kenma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU: There's a timer on your wrist that counts down to the second you meet your soulmate.  
> Requested (yes this is an x reader though it may not seem that way at first.)  
> Word Count: 1.5K+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Kenma, as most setters are, is very observant. He's always been able to pin someone and use their actions to his advantage. Whether it was by tilting his head one way or shifting his foot; Kenma could make someone think he's about to do something he isn't. Despite his rather weak stature, which never seemed suitable for an athlete, Kenma’s mind was sharp. But come a particular game in his first year, he thought he met his match.

Fukurodani is and always has been a formidable school, known for its star players and great teamwork. 

It was a practice match. One that went on for hours is Nekomas volleyball gym. There were no observers standing on the sides as they cheered, just coaches yelling pointers and patterns. During the game, Kenma found that he kept having a very relaxed staring competition with the setter opposite him. A taller boy with short black hair that parted a bit at the centre of his forehead. He had sharp eyes, a stronger build, and -judging by the number on the back of his pinnie- he has a first-year as well. The boy made smart, calculated move’s, but didn’t seem quite in sync with his team yet. He's too similar, Kenma thought, but not the same. The freshly bleached blonde-haired boy set a toss up, quick and out of the way of blockers for the bed-headed captain to spike down into the gym's floor. 

Akaashi was reserved. Not too different from Kenma, but chose to be quiet for a different reason that was easily found out when you observed the team as a whole. 

The two spoke after the practice was over as their respective friends fooled around, annoying their teammates and coaches alike. Complementing each other's skills and techniques while exchanging phone numbers before they got pulled away to their captain's sides to join their own teams again.

It wasn't until later while playing on his DS that Kenma realized that the clicking on one of his arms stopped. Leaving the lonely sound of a singular clock ticking to fill his room. He types the message as quickly as possible, only to get one before he could hit send.

Did yours stop too?

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Akaashi never quite understood why he had two timers on his arm. It wasn’t until he met Kenma and one stopped, did he understand the situation he and his partner were in. Kenma, luckily, also had two timers. Across all four of their arms, the times were paired with 00:00:00 on their rights, and another that was synced on their lefts, slowly counting down.

Akaashi liked math, it was so specific. No wrong answers or options. He had a calendar hung up above the desk in his room with all the important dates of the year marked on them. One day, a couple of weeks after their initial meeting, while lounging on Akaashi’s mattress, Kenma noticed the squared-off paper on the wall and asked his soulmate a question.

“Do you want to count it down?”

Akaashi looked down at the boy who rested on his stomach while playing a game. Kenma’s hair had begun to grow out, making a harsh black line across the top of his head.

“Count it down? Why?”

The gamer shrugged, observing the immaculate room around him, “You seem to like keeping track of things, wouldn’t you want to be prepared?”

Akaashi brushed his fingers through the dry hair on Kenma's head. He gently tugged on the knots, trying to make the move as painless as possible for the relaxed boy. Akaashi dropped his head back.

"I'm not… opposed to the idea."

•──────⋅☼⋅──────• 

You joined your school's volleyball team on a whim. Clubs were mandatory for students and volleyball seemed like a pretty mellow idea at the time. Besides, you had just recently graduated from middle school where you were the team's ace and did pretty well if you do say so. It didn't take long to realize how competitive the group was and how seriously everyone took their job. Not that you were opposed to it (the drive made it fun and you gained most of your high school friends from the program), but it definitely wasn't what you expected. 

Yes, maybe you should've taken the school's sports reputation into account before joining. But Niiyama Girl's High had such high academic records that sports had flown right past your head.

Looking at your team from an outside perspective, you realize how intimidating you all must look with short cut hair. It was a sort of team pact thing, but you used it as an excuse to finally cut your hair short.

The nationals stadium was enormous and warm (a big welcome from the cold January temperatures outside) with tons of students and observers wandering around as they looked for seats.

"(L/N) we're going to go warm-up, grab your things." 

Your captain's hair, like the rest of the third years, was at a bob length after growing out for the past three years. Yours, as well as the rest of the first years, had pixie cuts that looked a little scruffy from growing out over the last few months. Knee pads and water bottles tumbled around in your bag, making dull thuds as you walked with your teammates.

"I'm I just nervous or is your ticking louder than normal?" You couldn't tell if she was teasing you or genuinely concerned.

Your brow furrowed. Quickly unzipping your duffel bag and scrimmaging through the contents, you pulled out a pair of long elbow pads that go down to your elbow. They easily dampened the sound of your arms ticking so it didn’t bother your teammates. Not that they minded much, your constant ticking gave them a steady sound to rely on them your opposing team riled them up.

The game before yours hadn’t finished yet. It was the boy’s second game, near the end, but with no clear finish in sight.

Inarizaki High was intense, so was their cheer squad. Rolls of a trumpeted storm pushed through the air as the opposing team’s supporters tried to drown them out with consistent drumming. Your teammates huddled closer to your side.

“Your ticking is getting louder.”

You rolled down your pads’ sleeves, “I honestly don’t know why they’re doing this.”

Time was in its seconds.

“Hey Hey Hey! That’s my protege!” 

Your captain pointed over to a group not far over in the ground observation space.

“Bokuto, stop. You’re making a scene,” one said, brushing a hand through his short hair.

Throwing a look over your shoulder to your team, you slowly walked over as they waved you over, annoyed by the loud player.

“Calm down, Akaashi. It’s not like he’s hurting anyone,” The other said as he flipped his long hair out of his eye.

“Actually, I find it quite bothersome,” the last interjected, keeping his head down and eyes on the game in front of him.

The white-haired boy was about to yell again before you stepped in, “I must say, I agree. Could you please keep it down, my team’s trying to stay focused here.”

You pointed back to your team, who at this point were completely engrossed in the ongoing match before them rather than the predicament they’d thrown you into. You rested a hand on your hip and brushed a hand through your shaggy hair. You didn’t notice the ticking stop.

But the boys in front of you did and it wasn’t you ticking.

The shortest tilted his head away from the game and finally acknowledged you, “What’s your match?”

“Huh?”

“Your match,” the second shortest said. “Like your soulmate pairing.”

Without bothering to look down, you lifted the fabric of your elbow pad, “I’ve got timers on my wrists, oh hell.” You swallowed, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rude. Especially to your friend. Oh good going (Y/N), great first impression.”

“Kenma, Kozume,” the dyed blonde one bowed. The other quickly followed behind him but put his hand out as well, for you to take.

“Akaashi, Keiji, I would say we planned for this day, which we did, but it seems it hasn’t gone quite as planned.”

You chuckled, “I’ll admit. I didn’t quite think that I had two soulmates but, you know, it makes a lot more sense than two heads.”

“Two heads?”

“Please, don’t ask. I seem crazy enough as it is. You don’t need to add more fuel to the fire.” 

They both laughed quietly, making a light harmony between their voices. A song that you couldn’t wait to be a part of.

Akaashi, seemingly the less shy of the two, held both of your hands gently. “You’re playing next right? We’ll stay for as long as we can before our next game. We’ll both be in gym 1, so come find us afterwards.”

Kenma spoke up, “It looks like your team wants you for a meeting.”

You nodded, looking over your shoulder, “Ya, okay. I’ll come find you in gym 1 after we win.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This honestly could have gone on longer but I just watched Hamilton and want to sleep. -Bacon


	9. The Shape of You Name - Aone Takanobu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU: Your soulmate’s name appears on your wrist when you turn 16  
> Gender Neutral Reader  
> Word count: 1.4K+

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

There were not many things that you and Aone had in common. 

He was a person of very few words, and you had a lot to say. 

You smiled a lot, and sometimes made him smile from your antics, but most of the time his lips were in the shape of a hard line. 

You probably wouldn’t have been— kind of —friends if your moms hadn’t been friends with each other. You’ve spent time together when your parents did, but other than that, you lived your lives differently. 

However, there was one thing that you did have in common with each other. 

A birthday. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

AGE: 7

You made the pact at your shared 7th birthday party. 

Aone was sitting away from everyone else, drawing in the dirt with a stick. You kept glancing over to him, hoping that someone would go over to him, but you looked at the people you were talking to and your parents. They were all occupied with everyone else. 

You slowly made your way over to him and sat beside him. 

"Happy birthday,” you said smiling. 

He looked up at you and nodded. 

“Happy birthday to you too,” you replied to yourself in a deep voice, trying to imitate him. You haven’t heard him speak much, but you’d like to think you got it right. 

He smiled. 

“I’ll bring you some cake!” You stood up to leave, but a hand wrapped around the sleeve of your jacket to stop you. 

You sat back down next to him, “Are you okay?” 

He nodded and let go of your jacket and went back to drawing in the dirt. 

You tilted your head. “What’s wrong?”

Aone stopped for a moment and looked at you. Slowly he tapped on his wrist. “I don’t have many friends. What if I don’t get a soulmate either.” 

You frowned and turned over your own wrist. It was blank. Sometimes you would turn over your wrist in hoping that the name of your soulmate would appear even though it would only be on your 17th birthday. 

You grabbed his wrist carefully with your hand and smiled at him. “How about we make a pact?” 

“A pact?”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “When we’re 16, at midnight, we’ll look at it together! If you don’t have one, then I’ll buy you ice cream. If you do, then we’ll find them!” 

“Same for you?” He asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Okay,” you said. You held his wrist for one more beat and then let go. “Let’s go get cake now. I want a corner piece and I think (F/N) is going to steal one of them.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

AGE: 16 

You celebrated your birthdays together until you turned 10. Since then, you barely spoke to each other except for the occasional wave and nod at school. Sometimes you wondered if he had forgotten the pact, you never did, but he was occupied with volleyball, something that you silently acknowledged was more important.

Some part of you hoped that he didn’t. Something told you that he still knew, but you didn’t want to pressure him in case he forgot. 

“Aone’s kind of cute isn’t he?” Your friend asked. 

You looked up from your lunch and glanced in the direction of your friend and then to Aone. He was eating lunch with his volleyball members, slowly bringing the food to his mouth without missing a beat, and only looking up when he was mentioned. 

“Define cute,” you said. (F/N) rolled her eyes. “He’s nice.” 

“How nice?” she asked. 

“You ask a lot of questions.” 

Your friend laughed. She spun your body towards him and pointed at him directly. You rushed to grab her arm and put it down. “(Y/N).... come on. Spill the secrets. You’ve known him since birth.” 

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders. “I guess, but we don’t really talk that much anymore. I don’t think I’ve had a steady conversation with him since we were 7.”

“He’s tall though,” (F/N) whined. “I like tall boys.” 

You laughed. “There’s the rest of the volleyball team, there's the basketball team and non-athletic tallboys. Maybe other people.” 

“Fine,” your friend said, wallowing in their defeat. “How about your birthday then?” 

You flinched. “What about my birthday?” 

“What do you want to do?” She asked. “We could have a sleepover! Your parents are out of town right?” 

Business trip. A business trip on your birthday. You didn’t blame them though, they couldn’t control it and they already apologized profusely. They would make it up to you when they came back, your family dinner would have to wait. 

“I’m not really feeling my birthday this year…”

“What!?” Your friends shrieked. Some heads turned your way, you ignored them, but your friend visibly shrank and lowered her voice. “What do you mean you’re ‘not feeling your birthday’? It’s your soulmate day.” 

You looked down at your food. _That’s the reason I don’t want to celebrate._ “How about I meet you on the day of? We’ll go out for lunch.” 

“Promise?” She stuck out her pinky. 

You wrapped your pinky around hers. “Promise.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Since you got home, you’ve done nothing but stare at your phone. You had homework but didn’t care enough to actually do it. 

Your clock was mocking you. The ticking of the second hand made you want to throw it against the wall. 

Only a few more minutes. 

You went downstairs to grab a snack (misery loves food). You took an apple from your fridge and turned to go back upstairs when a knock on the door caused you to stop. 

Carefully, you walked to the door. You weren’t expecting anyone, and you knew that your friend, no matter how excited she was to find out who your soulmate was, would wait until your lunch with her. 

You looked through the peep-hole and saw a familiar head of white hair. He was leaning down so that his eye was aligned with the peep-hole, but he was a little off the mark, so the only thing you saw was white. 

You opened the door. “Hello?” 

Aone straightened his back. “Hi.” 

Stepping out of your house, you stood beside him on the porch. It was a little breezy, but it was a nice one, one of those cool gusts of wind that everyone longed for during the summer heat. “What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head a bit in confusion, his eyebrow going up a bit. “The pact? Did you not remember? I can go.” 

He turned to leave, but you caught the sleeve of his jacket. 

“No!” You yelled. You let go of his sleeve quickly and put your hand behind your back. “Sorry. No, I remembered. I thought that you didn’t.” 

“I have no reason to forget.” 

You stared at him, only breaking eye contact to check your phone. 

11:59

“Another minute,” you said. 

He nodded and sat down on the top step of the porch. You followed. 

“How are you?” You asked. 

“Okay.” 

“Good. I’ve been okay too—I don’t know if you cared or not—not that you _wouldn’t_ care….” You paused and looked away from him. “I’ve been good too.” 

He chuckled. 

You laughed too. 

Your smile faded a bit when you noticed a small black line on Aone’s arm. You pointed at it and his head while towards it. You ignored the stinging of your own wrist as you watched his. 

The black lines slowly started to curve in the shape of a name. It didn’t look like much first, almost like a little kid took a pen and started drawing lines. It took shape slowly. The shape of your name. 

The neat printing was clear as night. 

_(Y/N)_

You moved to meet his eyes, but his eyes were already on you. 

You were still looking at him when he took your arm in his hands. They were rough and calloused over the soft inner skin of your arm. His gaze tore away from your eyes and went to your wrist. 

Slowly, your gaze goes to your wrist too. The black curves were already clear, in the shape of Aone’s name. 

He smiled at you and wrapped his fingers around your wrist like you did when you were only 7. “I guess we don’t have to go far to find our soulmates.” 

You laughed and overlapped his hand with your own. 

“I still want ice cream though.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•


	10. Bludger - Karasuno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Harry Potter - Quidditch  
> Requested (despite it being a Karasuno one-shot, it leans toward Sawamura because he’s the captain)  
> Word Count: 1.8K+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You’d have to admit to yourself eventually. These students were as reckless as hell.

“I’m sorry (L/N). I understand that this must be a bit frustrating to watch,” the one with slick-haired bangs, Ennoshita, sighed next to you, watching his team fly through the air in staggered movements.

The boys screamed as they raced through the air, chasing and being chased by various flying balls and players alike. You groaned, watching the small red-head get smashed in the face by a bludger and quickly fall into the ground below him.

“I wouldn’t mind so much if I wasn’t the student nurse. But because I’m here it means I have to take care of all of you,” you grumbled and turned to the boy on the field. “Hinata are you alright?”

The boy jumped up from the grass field and waved excitedly in your direction. His nose was bleeding.

“For the love of God, Hinata get over here!”

As you iced the boy’s nose he talked happily as if nothing was bothering him, though his voice did come out a bit nasally because of his nose being covered.

“Uh, (L/N)?” Sawamura poked his head into the changing room where medical supplies were held. “Classes are going to start again soon, where should we put all the equipment?”

Taking off the ice from Hinata’s face you checked if the bleeding stopped and pointed to the door in the corner of the room. “It’s all from the storage closet, everything goes in there.”

Sawamura smiled and left the room. His immediate yelling told you that the team was being just as chaotic even with their missing fireball of a fifth year.

Hinata rattled on as his group brought in all the supplies, “What’s your favourite subject? I like Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“I’ve always been a fan of herbology and potions, they work together and are needed for medicine.”

“That’s cool. I’ve never been good at those. I always need help from the seventh years.”

You ruffled the boy’s hair, making him smile at the tingling feeling at his roots. “Well, if you need any help, feel free to ask.”

Hinata jumped from his seat on the bench, narrowly missing the opportunity to head but you in the nose, and rushed out the door to help grab equipment. “Kageyama! (L/N) is going to help us with our classes!”

“Wait!”

“Ha, good luck with that. They’re helpless,” the towering blond grinned slyly, clearing enjoying your sudden distress.

You fisted the robe that draped on your sides, “Shut it, Big Ben.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Hinata, wait, no!”

Tsukishima openly laughed at the sight of Hinata’s face covered in soot, eyes and teeth being the only thing visible through the ashy chemicals. Nishinoya and Tanaka joined in with the hysterics. Sugawara, prepared as always, along with the help of Shimizu ran over ready to clean the poor boy’s face. Asahi, Yachi, and Yamauchi shuddered and whined, shaking as they feared any injury to befall their friend. The quiet sixth years chuckled but continued with their own studying.

Sawamura sighed as he leaned against the window sill, watching as you held Kageyama back from pouncing on his teammate yelling at him to smarten up.

“Idiot you didn’t do any better! Look at the mess you made!” You screamed, gripping the back of the tall quidditch player’s black jacket.

Sawamura breathed heavily into the raised collar of his school’s uniform, “Hey, clean up and go to bed!” 

It didn’t take long for his team to follow the orders laid out for them. It left you with free hands and a slowly dissipating headache though, standing in the centre of the room wearing your unique robes given to you by the school you were all in.

“I’m sorry that our stay here is going to be a bit chaotic.”

You sighed, “Sawamura, don’t apologize. I’m sure the other schools are just as hectic and that my schoolmates are having similar troubles.”

“Are you sure? Also, I keep telling you, call me Daichi.”

“Ya positive. I don’t know you well enough to call you Daichi. How are practices going?”

You and Sawamura followed behind the group, out of the now clean room, toward the cabins where they have been staying. The hallways of your school towered above your heads, covered with moving paintings that waved at your group as you walked by.

“Practices are fine, coach Ukai and professor Takeda are having fun but get annoyed with us sometimes. The tournament is probably getting to them.”

“I can understand why. I’ve had to help patch up way more than a few injuries over the last couple of weeks.”

In Karasuno's assigned cabin, Ukai and Takeda were talking across a chalkboard that was set up in the lobby of their temporary home. The Karasuno team immediately sat around the board. Sawamura stayed by your side for a moment.

“You have a match in the morning, right?”

Sawamura smiled, “Yes, against Wakutani. We’re probably getting a rundown of the team now.”

“Just, try not to let anyone get injured alright? I have enough work on my hands.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Your school was large, massive in size, and known for its constant participation and hosting of the annual quidditch tournaments every year. But the number of students on the school grounds was abysmal in comparison to its size. So it opened up. Many quidditch fields filled the open space behind the school, accompanied by large stands for viewers. Your school became the main gathering ground for highschool quidditch games and tournaments. And it's students became the help.

Karasuno, dressed in their flying gear and carrying various different kinds of brooms walked to their side of the field ready to start warming up. Sawamura left their sides to go speak with the ref and the other captain to determine beginning plays and positions.

Nishinoya, despite his small stature, was the keeper of the team and a good one at that. While Azumane played as the team’s seeker, Hinata easily wanted to take his spot the following year, despite it already being decided that Tanaka would inherit the position. Hinata, Tanaka, and Kageyama were the team’s chasers. Although, Kageyama could play anywhere. And Tsukishima and Sawamura were the team’s beaters, working to protect their teammates. Although, more often than not, Tsukishima would rather let the bludgers swing into the sides of his fellow fifth years.

You sat on the side of the grass field, centred between the two team benches, watching and waiting for any injury.

The game had started quickly with the points quickly going up. Players swung around quickly making them incredibly hard to watch in the sunlight and make sure they weren’t getting hurt. You were sure Hinata had a nosebleed but refused to get swapped out. It wasn’t until a collision happened and someone began to fall that there was something to worry about. 

Swinging your wand out from your robes, you caught the player mid-air, slowing their fall until they were gently rested on the grass.

The game had stopped and you rushed onto the field. Sawamura was wincing as he tried to push himself up, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. His teammates started to crowd around.

“No, no, no. Stay down, you oaf. Open your mouth, let me see.”

Following your orders, Sawamura opened up to show you a missing tooth and blood-covered tongue. 

Tanaka pleaded at the injured man’s side, “Daichi I’m so sorry. It’s my fault, I should’ve taken that hit from the bludger.”

“Shut up Tanaka, it’s fine. I’m alright.”

“Don’t make me laugh, you might have a concussion, so we are going to go give you a check-up.” 

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The game went on, Ennoshita taking on the role that Sawamura left behind. You gave him a nod as you led Yachi and the injured man to the infirmary.

You couldn’t tell what had progressed in the game after you left, but you were certain that Ennoshita was a bit stressed. Okay, maybe a bit more than stressed, but you were sure that the trustworthy sixth year would be fine until the end of the game.

Once you got the bleeding to stop and put some ice on his cheek you got him on his feet to check for a concussion. After a few straight walking lines and balance tests, you were sure the beater was safe to rest for a bit.

“How are you feeling?”

He groaned.

“Perfect then.”

Ukai came to visit at that moment, “The game’s still going, you okay there?”

You interjected, “There’s no worry of a concussion but it would be best for him to rest a bit. We’ll Give him a painkiller and some skele-gro once he feels better.”

Ukai nodded, “Okay come back when you feel better and be ready for the next game.”

Sawamura only chuckled and gave his coach a tired acknowledgement before lying down.

As Sawamura snored into the pillow you and Shimizu had a nice conversation about classes, future plans, and laughing about funny moments revolving around the Karasuno boys team. Yachi, typically quiet and shy, spoke more clearly and openly as you waited, her voice still wavering from nerves though.

After a near hour, Sawamura stretched up from his spot on the bed. Despite still being a bit tired, he was more eager to get back to the game at hand. He was forced to wait as you gave him a painkiller for his cheek and the bone growing potion to bring his lost tooth back to its former glory. The bruise didn’t go away and would be there for a while.

Once you get there though, Dachi decided to just watch as his teammates completed the game without him, a smile growing on his face.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

It was when the game finished and everyone on Karasuno’s team collected the praises given to them by their Coaches that Sawamura decided to make his appearance. Tanaka started crying again, Nishinoya and Hinata were not far behind, jumping on your shoulders and thanking you for healing their beloved captain. Yachi, despite having been with you the entire time and knowing there had been nothing wrong, joined in as well.

“Let me go please.”

“But (L/N) you saved our captain from a cruel death!”

“Why in the world would you think he was going to die?”

“Daichi is going to die?”

Takeda fumbled over his words, trying to cool down the energetic group and hand out their bottles at the same time. It failed, as always, but it wouldn’t stop him from trying.

Tanaka buried his head into the crook of your shoulder, making it seem as though you had dowsed your shoulder in water. Nishinoya who was clinging onto your other arm did the same.

“Don’t you all have another match to fret about?”

“(L/N)’s right, you know,” Ukai said. “Next is AobaJousai.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•


	11. Red Pens Pt.1 - Tsukishima Kei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Teacher Assistant to Co-workers  
> Gender Neutral Reader  
> Word count: 1.7k
> 
> *I’m not 100% sure how teacher’s assistants work and they work differently with each school, so just go along with the fake system I created  
> *Nor do I know anything about physics so you’ll see me dodge some content about that…

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“You are required to have a teacher's assistant,” Tsukishima’s boss said. Tsukishima received a call that morning telling him to go to the Dean’s office after teaching his first class. “It’s part of the program at this university. These T.A.’s are going to be the next professors, the next people teaching. You need to have one.” 

Tsukishima frowned and pushed up his glasses. “But teacher’s assistants do all of the work. Aren’t I paid to teach?” 

“You are still going to teach,” his boss sighed. “Teacher’s assistants lessen the workload on you. They mark essays and tests, but you still get the final say on everything. Professor's want teacher’s assistants, Tsukishima.” 

He didn’t want one. He liked the work. He likes marking tests and essays, helping his students understand their mistakes to improve and rolling his eyes at the assignments he knew were done last minute. 

Maybe he could go through all of the assignments and only give his teacher’s assistant the ones that didn’t have any care put into them. Or maybe he’ll give in-depth tests that’ll make them want to quit. 

Tsukishima looked up at his boss. “Fine. I want a good one.” 

His boss waved him out of the door. “They’re all good, Tsukishima.” 

Tsukishima raised from his seat and turned to leave. “Oh, I bet they are.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Tsukishima fired the first teacher’s assistant. 

The second one quit. 

The third one was fired too.

And you were the fourth. Fourth time's the charm, right?

Despite your friend’s warnings to not take the teacher’s assistant position, you took it anyways. Once you walked into the room and sat where the T.A. sits, the students gave you a look of pity. One student even came up to you and wished you good luck. 

You heard the rumours about Tsukishima's past teacher assistants, that he scolds them constantly during class for not knowing the content when he gives them a chance to teach or that he sends them to get coffee. You even heard the rumour of the last teacher’s assistant asking out Tsukishima and them getting rejected, and being told he doesn’t date teacher’s assistants. 

You took the job knowing all of those things. You thought it was odd though, he had an amazing reputation for being a good teacher, one that helped students and listened to their concerns. You had seen it. One of your friends had dragged you to one of his classes to sit in on it and it was captivating. He spoke clearly and casually, made the students laugh and interested in the subject matter, and answered questions with careful consideration. 

Also, he wasn’t bad to look at, but you weren’t going to tell anyone that. 

Tsukishima arrived a few minutes late and apologized to his class and announced that they were going to start shortly. He saw you sitting in the T.A.’s spot and glared. It wasn’t required for you to sit in for classes since you already had your degree in education and a minor on the subject he was teaching (physics), so it wasn’t like you had to sit there to learn it. However, you didn’t see any reasons to not sit in for his class. It only deepened your understanding of the subject and where they were in the course. 

He placed his bag and coat on his desk and walked towards you. 

You straightened your back and smiled. “Hello.” 

“I didn’t want another T.A.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “It’s nice to meet you too. My name is (F/N) (L/N). And, well, you got one. I don’t think you can fire people on their first day unless they seriously mess up and I’m not quitting.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly but didn’t glare. You took this as a good sign or at least an okay one. 

“You should start,” you said, cutting him off before he could say anything else. “Your students are waiting.” 

Tsukishima walked over to the front of the classroom and quieted everyone down, which was surprisingly fast, and gave a short explanation of what they were going to cover in today’s lesson. As the student got out their laptops, he introduced you as the new T.A and began class. 

You enjoyed it just as you thought it would. You were tempted to take notes for when you had to mark assignments and tests, but thought that would give him a bad impression of you. 

Halfway through the lesson, Tsukishima turned to you, a barely visible smirk on his lips, but you saw it. 

He asked you a question regarding the material, testing whether or not you knew what was going on. Everyone’s eyes went to you. This is how he fired the first teacher assistant. He complained to the Dean that he didn’t want a teacher’s assistant that didn’t know the course content and that it would negatively impact the students. 

You hesitated for a second, preparing your answer — it wasn’t an easy question. 

“Do you not know?” He asked. 

“No,” you said calmly, “I want to give out a fully thought out answer.” You paused for another moment and said your answer. 

He looked at you and then carried on. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You went through a couple of classes like that, Tsukishima asking you questions sporadically, giving you a second to think about it, and you answering. Sometimes he saw students write down your answers or nod to what you were saying. Some would add on to your comment and it would derail the class, but always in a good direction. 

You were still sitting at the desk when class was over like you did every day just in case he needed you to do something. He did ask you to get coffee for him, but he always gave you enough money to get one yourself. He only gave you tests to mark instead of essays. You could tell he didn’t trust you yet. You understood that, especially as an aspiring teacher, you definitely would want to double-check your teacher assistant’s work because you thought they would do it well. 

Over the next few weeks, you and Tuskishima had found an unspoken rhythm. You worked well together. You haven’t been fired, nor did you quit. You were reliable with your knowledge on the content, clearly shown when he picked on you, even though most teacher’s assistants stayed quiet during the classes, sometimes he would stop you on your way out and ask your opinions on marks for students or their work. 

Today, he had asked you to stay back. Tsukishima went behind his desk for a minute and took out a large stack of papers. He carefully placed it on the table in front of you and handed you a red pen. 

“These are the student’s essays from last week,” he said. “Mark them please.” 

“You want me to mark essays?” You asked, numbly taking the pen from his hand. 

“Yes? You’re a teacher’s assistant aren’t you?” He turned around and sat in his chair. He reached under his desk and brought up another stack of papers. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to do all these myself, so I created a system. I try to double-check things I mark because even I make mistakes, I'll do this pile, you do that pile, and then we switch when we’re done.” 

You nodded. “Do you want me to write any comments or just read it and give a grade at the top?”

He leaned back into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you not know how to mark essays?” 

You rolled your eyes slightly. “Of course I do. Most professors have different ways of marking so I want to know the way you prefer it.” 

Tsukishima grabbed an extra red pen from his desk. “Are there professors who don’t add comments?” 

“You’d be surprised,” you laughed. “I’m assuming you add them then?” 

He nodded and started marking. 

Your red pen was flying across the paper. You added constructive criticisms as well as praises when something was well written. Since Tsukishima was the final mark decision-maker, you added a tentative mark to the top of the page in pencil and when you looked over at his desk you saw that he was doing the same thing, awaiting the second opinion. 

It was closing toward eight at night when you finished your stack. You leaned back and closed your eyes yawning, rubbing your hand that now stung from all of the writing. 

He was done his stack a few minutes before you and was rubbing his hand as well. He grabbed the papers off his desk and brought them over to you, sitting in the empty chair beside yours. 

“Double checking is easier,” he said, pushing up his glasses. He does that a lot, you noticed. “You look through it and make sure there isn’t anything the other person missed. When we’re done we’ll just put in the final mark.” 

“You want my opinion on the final mark?” You asked, taking a snip of your now cold coffee. 

He shrugged. “Why not? It’s always good to get a second opinion.” 

He was right, double-checking was easier. It only took you about an hour and a half to go through all of them, only stopping when there was a question about the mark given or the comments. He would laugh at the first few essays and say that you were a hard marker. 

He decided that most of your marks were sound, only giving a few percent increase or decrease and each time you asked why he did it. 

It was almost eleven when you were completely done. You had your jacket on and your bag around your shoulder. 

“I’ll see you next week,” you said and headed for the door. 

“Wait.” 

You turned around. Tsukishima turned off the lamp on his desk and caught up to you. “Do you want to grab coffee?” 

You yawned. “Sure. Do you want your usual? I’ll bring it to you for the morning class on Monday.” 

He grabbed your arm, turning you to face him fully. “Not for me. Do you want to get coffee _with_ me.” 

You looked up amused. “I thought you don’t date teacher’s assistants.” 

He let go of your arm and laughed. “You heard about that?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll make an exception for you.” 

You laughed but shook your head. “Wait until I’m a teacher.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope that you and your family are staying safe!!! There could probably be a part 2 for this, but I like the way it ended - Kiwi


	12. Step - Nishinoya Yuu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Dance Prodigy  
> Gender Neutral Reader  
> Word Count: 1.6K+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

_A five, six, seven eight._

Your feet hurt. It was something you’d always be able to handle, the curve of your feet as the pushed into the expensively matted floor. It took years to achieve the form you had polished tirelessly. The slightly hyperextended knees and arms, toes that could curl and reach the floor while you sat with your legs stretched in front of you, the flexible spine, neck, and hip sockets. You worked for this form.

_Head up._

You gently led your arm in a circle through the air before leaning down to touch your toes that pointed into the floor. Your back cracked as you rotated around into an arabesque. Your hip popped as you rotated it above your head. Your ankle twisted as you descended too quickly. Years of training led to this moment. Bright light bounced off your skin. The stiff build of your skirt showed off your legs as they extended and moved flawlessly, carrying you across the stage. Music fluttered gently across the hall, each sound matched a movement. Your leg hurt. As you made centre stage the music faded out, the curtain slowly closed, and the lights dimmed as the applause roared through the open air around you. The draping velvet cloth made contact in front of you, and as it did your leg gave way.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Your Achilles tendon tore. It’s about 12 weeks of recovery time, but you’ll need to rehabilitate afterwards. I’m sorry.”

The doctor left, closing the door gently behind him. The stiff fabric of the hospital bedding folded tightly between your fingers as your fists clenched. You glared at your elevated leg. At your bedside was your instructor who stared down at her clenched fists, breathing heavily as if she were about to burst.

“This is my fault. If I hadn’t pushed you-”

“Stop,” you turned your head in her direction. “The fault is all mine. I’ve been having ankle pain for a few weeks. I never said anything but I never imagined it would turn out like this.”

It wasn’t a total lie. The pain in your leg had only started a week prior, after taking a small tumble while you practiced privately.

She sighed, “You’re still young, you’ll recover quickly. But-”

You nodded, biting your lip. “But I won’t make it to the academy. I know.”

“Ballet will be too harsh on your body, you could probably get back into it but you’ll likely never get to the point where you were yesterday.”

You looked at your teacher, “then what do I do?”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You stood in front of the white building, watching as the crowd of students slowly piled in. Your school specialized in high level performance ballet but also had other forms ranging from contemporary to musical theatre and hip hop. Sadly, in your final year, instead of participating in the ballet performance that you were slotted to take the role in (now taken by your good friend who was too nervous for words and kept coming to you for help) you were spending your days in the work-out and rehabilitation wing of the school.

The year-end performance that had taken place just before summer vacation, left you with an injury that took all of summer to recover from. A week into the school year, you had just gotten your cast-off but were still walking with the assistance of a crutch. Despite the likelihood of not being able to participate in this year’s showcase, you still wore your ballet jersey with pride as you hobbled into the school.

“Do you want some help?”

A boy came up to your side offering a hand out to carry your bag. He wore the classic black uniform of the hip hop students. You smiled thankfully and let your bag slide off of your shoulder and into the palm of his hand.

“Thank you.”

“Hey, you’re that ballet dancer. I saw your dance last year, it was amazing. What happened to your leg?”

“Oh, I injured myself while performing. Tore my Achilles.”

He winced, “Ouch, how did you finish? You didn’t even look injured.”

“To be honest, I didn’t realize until the curtain closed and I fell over.”

He opened the door, ushering you in before following closely behind. “I’ll help you to your dorm. How have you been recovering?”

You sighed and continued to hobble next to him as you made your way to the dorm room elevator. “I’ve been managing, but I won’t be able to perform this year unless I get super lucky.”

“But this is your year to get scouted!” he stuck his arm in the elevator door until you made it through.

You laughed at his eagerness, “Ya, and I’ll be spending it in the rehab hall. I’m lucky they didn’t expel me.”

The boy sighed, “The school wouldn’t expel you. You’re the school’s top student, they wouldn’t give you up over an injury.”

“Thanks.”

The two of you made your way to your dorm room, where you pulled a key out of your pocket. As the door opened he handed you your bag back with a nod before heading down the hallway.

“Hey,” you called. “What’s your name?”

He turned quickly, yelling down the hall, “Nishinoya Yuu!”

“Yuu, call me (Y/N)!”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You were working with one of the on-site chiropractors when the doors opened.

“Yu? What are you doing here?”

Your doctor laughed as Nishinoya jogged over in your direction. Behind him were a bunch of other hip hop students that made their way to the pilates machinery.

“We have an hour of pilates today. How’s your leg doing?”

Lifting up the somewhat immobile leg you shook it in the air before going back to walking practice. Next to you, your doctor threw in a comment about the tendon healing at a good pace.

“I’ll hopefully be able to walk normally by December. As for dancing, I don’t know, I think I’d like to try even if I can’t do it fully.”

It was early October. Nishinoya and yourself have managed to create an imbalanced friendship with him carrying your things or most of your weight while getting around. Luckily for him, it wasn’t much of an inconvenience. The hip hop wing was right next to rehab. It also didn’t bother him that he got to make Ryu jealous by carrying a pretty girl on his arm, but that was beside the point. 

True to your own words, once December rolled around you were able to walk around without any assistance. Stairs were a bit difficult, and Nishinoya still managed to convince you to let him carry your things. But at least you could walk.

December was the time when most choreography was coming to a close and rapid polishing would commence. Despite this, the day before winter break started, Nishinoya ran into your dorm, interrupting your packing with a proposal.

“Let’s do a duet!”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The two youngest teachers of either of your branches became your choreographers for your duet. They seemed way more excited about the idea that Nishinoya brought to them than Nishinoya was. Not that you could blame them, the branches of the school didn’t meld very often.

Your bad leg was still unable to go on full point. After about a month of figuring out the choreography, most of it ended up being arabesques and lifts (among other things) that wouldn’t put too much pressure on your ankle. Nishinoya’s choreo was a big contrast with more grounded and heavy movements, looking a bit more like an idol’s stage performance than heavy hip hop, but he looked incredibly confident and comfortable in that zone. Tying the polar opposites together were matching movements, pauses, and overall flow.

You handed Nishinoya your water bottle and sat down next to him. As he chugged the water back you watched as your two choreographers chatter happily.

“How’s your ankle?” he asked, setting down your bottle.

Tilting your head over in his direction, you nudged his shoulder lightly. “It feels pretty good a little tight maybe but alright. Are those two flirting?”

“I think so. Do you think you’ll be able to perform? We’re doing costume fittings next week.”

You rolled your ankle gently. “I think I’ll survive. What do your costumes look like again?”

“Flowy dress, flowy shirt and black pants.”

You huffed out a giggle, causing Nishinoya to turn in your direction while wearing a pout. Grabbing your arm he shook it quickly trying to grab your attention. “Hey! What are you laughing for, huh?”

“Nothing, just. I think you’re going to look a bit like a pirate. With your hair and all.”

“Hey, there ain’t nothing wrong with looking like a pirate. They’re pretty cool!”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

It was quiet backstage. Or as much as it could be with strong music playing through the concert hall and rowdy hip hop dancers cheering excitedly through the velvet curtains. You gripped Nishinoya’s hand like a vice as you waited for the song to end so you could take centre stage with your partner. Nishinoya flinched under the grasp but held yours back as gently as possible while talking to Tanaka who stuck around still wearing the costume from his first performance which Nishinoya was a part of.

Most students would perform one or two dances at least, you were stuck with one.

The song ended abruptly, marking your cue to head on stage. Tanaka ran to the seats as Nishinoy and you waited for the previous dancers to come off stage.

“Ready, (Y/N)?”

You nodded stiffly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall and then we’ll go on like it was meant to happen.”

You didn’t want to let go of his hand.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•


	13. A Smaller Human - Kageyama Tobio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Pregnancy  
> FEM! Reader  
> Word Count: 867
> 
> *I barely know anything about pregnancy...so uh...some things may or may not be right...thanks

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Now**

Maybe you and Kagayama were trying too hard to get pregnant. Kagayama would shorten his volleyball practice to make sure to follow your weird schedules that you laid out for him. None of his teammates minded though, they knew that the most important thing next to volleyball to Kagayama was you. 

It’s been a couple of years since you guys settled down and decided to start a family. Kagayama got a steady volleyball position and you’ve been doing (chosen profession), but you’ve always felt that something was missing. 

You crossed your fingers as you held a pregnancy test in your hand. It didn’t help that you knew Kagayama was outside the bathroom, probably pacing back and forth. The timer dinged on your phone and you turned it over.

Negative again. 

You sucked in a breath and in threw the test in the garbage. You walked out to the bedroom with your head down, making eye contact with Kagayama as you shook your head. 

Kagayama took one look at you and his shoulders caved in. He carefully walked over to where you were standing and wrapped his arms around you — an unlikely thing that you always appreciated when it happened. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll try again later. Maybe it’s something that just comes when it comes.” 

You laughed. “Wow! You have an amazing grasp on the concept of pregnancy. You should teach it to high school students.” 

He chuckled. “It’ll happen one day. I know it.” He kissed your cheek and went over to the corner of the room to grab his volleyball equipment. He walked over back to you and smiled. “And when it does happen. It’ll be the most amazing day. We’ll just have to wait a little longer.” 

You watched him as he walked out the door. 

Another day. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

 **A few months later**

You didn’t know how much longer your flu was going to last. You’ve been in bed for days, throwing up with your head constantly spinning. It was safe to say that Kageyama was worried sick. He missed a couple of practices and practically begged you to go to the hospital if you weren’t better by tomorrow. 

He would lay beside you on the bed and tell you stories of his high school volleyball games and random ones about his life. You, of course, heard most of the stories before, but you loved about him and would subtly add in parts that he forgot to tell you. 

It took some convincing, but you finally got him to go to a volleyball practice after you heard him talking on the phone with his coach. 

“You should go,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’ve been sick before and I am technically an adult. I can take care of myself. 

He hesitated. “But you haven’t been this sick before.” 

You pressed a kiss lightly on his cheek. “I’ll call over someone to make sure I don’t die in my sleep, if you’re that worried, but you can’t get kicked off the team.” 

“I’m not going to get kicked off,” he mumbled. 

“Go,” you said pushing him away. “Keep your starting lineup position.”

Kagayama kissed your forehead and went to practise. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Hinata came a bit later to the apartment with a bag, at your request, filled to the brim with cold medication, ice cream and one pregnancy test. 

“You know,” Hinata said, “buying a pregnancy test is really weird. The lady gave me a look. Don’t I look old enough to have a steady relationship in order to buy one?” 

You laughed. 

“Does he know?” He asked, flopping on the bed. 

“I don’t even know.” 

“Then why the test?” 

You shrugged and walked over to the bathroom. “Caution?” 

The next thing that Hinata knew, you were screaming. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**That night**

Kageyama had a volleyball in his hands when he walked through the front door. He locked the door and set his stuff down near the dresser. Your bed was empty and a shock went through his body.

“(Y/N)? Where are you?” 

“Bathroom!” 

He lightly jogged to the bathroom and knocked gently on the door, pushing it open a little. You were sitting against the bathtub with your hair tied back. 

“Where’s your friend?” He asked, sitting next to you. 

“It’s late,” you smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I sent them home.” 

“Are you planning on sleeping on the floor? I can make you a pillow out of towels. ” 

You laughed. “I don’t think that would be good. For the both of us.” 

“Yeah,” he said. He stretched out his arms. “Not going to practice for a bit really made my arms hurt. I should’ve stretched more.” 

“Then the three of us?” 

Kageyama groaned. “Is Hinata coming over? I swear if I wake up and find him in our bed again because he wanted company. I’ll kill him.” 

“It’s a smaller not-really human.” 

“What?” 

You grabbed the pregnancy test from beside you and handed it to him. “A smaller human.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•


	14. Thunderclouds - Yamaguchi Tadashi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: University (dormmates)  
> Requested  
> Word Count: 1K+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

"Yams! Our 1:30 got cancelled. Mr Hitachi is sick."

You scrolled through your email lazily. Cold rain has been pouring the past few days and a number of your classes and lectures have been cancelled. The older prof had gotten sick after travelling between lectures earlier in the week and the younger ones figured commuting through the city while it rained would only hold students back and shove to put their teaching material online for notes. Closing the window, you switched over to the Webflix tab you had opened and played one of the many rom-coms that were available.

"Seriously? Dang it. I could have waited another day," Yamauchi whined as he patted his hair down with his green towel. "I thought you didn't like romance? Why are you watching a rom-com?"

As he sat in the corner of the small couch next to you, Yamaguchi lifted a leg to rest on the table next to your laptop. You let out an amused huff.

"It's not that I don't like romance, it's just that's there's so much responsibility in relationships ya know? But in rom-coms they make it look easy while making funny mistakes along the way. It's kind of endearing."

"Really?"

You nodded. "And besides," you said, picking up the warm tea that rested on the table, pointing to his own mug that you prepared. "It's good background noise for when I'm working on something."

"So you don't even watch the movie." He stated.

"I watch it!" He only gave you a look while pointing to the sketchbook you had in your lap and taking a sip of his tea. "Sometimes," you corrected.

Chuckling, he set down his mug and turned to rest against the armrest, lifting his arm to the back of the couch. As he did the clean shirt he wore started to lift along the side of his stomach, showing off a bit of the toned muscle and skin he got after years of playing volleyball. 

Your hands started to feel even warmer against the mug you started holding tighter.

"So what's this movie about." He asked, reaching for his mug again.

"If I knew, it would ruin all the cliches don't you think?"

Yamaguchi raised a brow, "don't you hate cliches?"

You could feel the heat from your hands begin to crawl up your arms toward your neck like little mosquitoes looking for the best source of blood. Which just so happened to be your face at this very moment. You shot your eyes back to the screen before you, just in time to see the main protagonist nearly get hit by a car, only to get saved by the love interest.

"Shut up, Yams."

From the corner of your eye, you could see the pointed smile that grew on his face. He tried to cover the expression with his hand, but the gentle snicker escaped him before he could.

"You better be laughing at the movie," you huffed.

Not bothering to hide it any longer, Yamaguchi openly laughed. You sent him another glare before tugging the folding blanket off the back of the couch and draping across your lap.

The movie went on. The female lead found out her love interest was engaged, her best friend joked around, and the male lead continued to lead her on despite his previously mentioned engagement. You groaned lightly but continued watching because despite all the things that could have been easily avoided it was entertaining.

There was a tugging.

“Let go.”

“But I’m cold and you’re hogging the blanket.”

You pulled the soft material closer to your chest, effectively getting it out of his kneading paws. There was a warm prickly feeling on your ankle. Trying to bury a laugh in your stomach, you growled in Yamaguchi’s direction.

“Let go.”

His eyes were shot wide open, and his lips were pushed together in a pout. He didn’t say anything, and before you could either your weight was shifted and pulled. With your head and shoulders thrown over the armrest, you effectively looked down at Yamaguchi who held your legs on either side of his waist while wearing an overly happy grin. Heat began to build up in your chest before rolling through your arms and neck until it sat in your cheeks.

Yamaguchi’s legs rested under your own and his feet curled behind your back, pushing against the side of the couch. Despite the somewhat awkward position, he had effectively gotten the blanket over his legs. And he looked happy about it too.

Huffing, you crossed your arms and turned back to watching the movie. Besides that, you didn’t move. 

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The next morning was an odd one. The thunder from the days prior continued to roll through the clouds outside. Yamaguchi’s neck hurt as it bent backwards over the couch. He could feel your legs that bent gently around his side. Looking over he saw you curled in a fetal position using his ankle as a makeshift head and neck rest. He grabbed his phone, checking the time (7:15 am, his alarm went off) and his emails (his lectures were cancelled again and thus yours were too). Using your arms as an anchor, he pulled you over, letting your body flop into his chest. He then manoeuvred the tangled blanket out from between the two of you and flicked back to cover the both over along the length of the couch.

He took the still moment to laugh at the look on your face. Brow furrowed and lips pursed, you looked as though you were glaring at him even in your sleep.

Chuckling, he pulled you closer, “Ah, what a tsun-tsun.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•


	15. Red Pens Pt.2 - Tsukishima Kei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: T.A → Co-workers  
> Gender Neutral Reader  
> Word Count: 1.3k
> 
> *Same rules apply….I have no idea how teacher’s assistants work so if you do then suspend your belief for a bit

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You have grown to hate all types of writing utensils. Pencils? Evil. Markers? Devils. Pens? The spawns of satan. You haven’t written this much since you were in university and even then it would only be exams. 

You glanced over to Tsukishima, who was rubbing his hand. 

“You know this is your fault.” 

Tsukishima smirked, a small laugh escaping his lips. “What’s my fault?” 

You raised your hand and stretched out your fingers towards him, showing him the unseeable pain. “My hand pain. Your hand pain. It’s all your fault. Why can’t you just let them hand in their work online like everyone else? That’s why people made programs for this type of stuff.” 

“Computers miss things that the human eye doesn’t.” 

“Computers catch things that the human eye doesn’t,” you countered, walking over to his desk. 

He offered you your own desk, like his own, a few weeks after you started being his teacher’s assistant and realized that you weren’t going to quit and he had no reason to fire you. But you like this small desk that was at the end of the first row of desks that the students sat at, it was only a little way away from his desk and made you feel like you were a part of the class. 

Plus, the small walk helped you believe that you were getting some sort of exercise. (Which you weren’t)

Also, you liked the way you would still learn from his class even if you already knew most of the material. You liked the way he would glance over at you every now and then, and the way you would smile at him and he would give you a small smile in return, followed by a shake of his head.

It was a nice little dance that only the two of you knew the rhythm too. 

“Most professors don’t even look at the essays once they put it through the computer,” he complained, pushing his glasses up. “I like reading what my students have to say. A lot of them put so much effort into their work, spend hours, days or weeks putting it together. The least I could do is give back that effort.” 

He paused and rubbed his hand. “It’s worth it in the end.” 

You stared at him for a second. Despite how much your hand hurt, you understood what he meant and knew that he meant every word that he said. Maybe that’s why his classes are always full and that there were wait lists for some of them. 

You wanted to teach as he did. 

“What?” 

Your eyes snapped up. “What?” 

“You were staring at me,” Tsukihima said, taking another pen from the holding and clicked it. “It was weird.” 

You rolled your eyes. “My hand still hurts.” 

He smiled and his eyes went back to the paper in his hand. “You can complain when you’re done.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“I only have a few more weeks as your T.A,” you said, clicking your pen on and off. It was mostly to annoy him because you knew if you did it long enough he would take it away and would call for a break. “You’re soo going to miss me. I basically do all of your work for you.” 

Tsukishima looked up. You were marking tests this time which were much easier, so you had the time to annoy him. “You’re not the worst teacher’s assistant.” 

You rolled your eyes and continued to click your pen. “I’m an amazing teacher’s assistant. I get all the work done on time, I stay extra late to finish, and I get us coffee even though I know it’s not in my job description. You’d be uncaffeinated without me.” 

He got out of his chair and walked towards your desk. Once he got close enough, he snatched the pen out of your hand. “Stop clicking the pen.” 

“Does that mean I can take a break?” You smiled, already getting out of your seat. 

“You can go get us coffee,” he said, walking back to his desk.

“That’s what I meant. Getting coffee is the best type of break.” 

You grabbed your bag and started towards the door. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You turned around. 

“I’m happy that you’re not going to be my teacher assistant next year,” he said, not looking up from the papers in his hand. 

You deflated. “Really?” 

“Yes.” You stood in silence for a minute. Maybe this time you’d take your time getting coffee. Slowly, he placed his pen down and looked at you, his face blank, like his answer was obvious. “Yes, when you stop being my teacher’s assistant and you become a professor, then I can ask you out.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**1 Year Later**

You were marking essays, a blue pen carefully balanced between your fingers. Unfortunately, this one was riddled with marks and your hand hurt. Your teacher assistant didn’t show up and hasn’t shown up for almost two days, so you’ve been marking over a hundred essays by yourself. 

You understood why Tsukishima fired so many of them before you. Maybe you should fire yours.

Why couldn’t they give you a good one? 

You closed your eyes and leaned back into the chair. 

“Meditating?” 

Your eyes shot open, the blue pen falling from your hand onto the floor. Tsukishima leaned against the door frame of your classroom, his hands behind his back and a smug look on his face. 

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you here to mock my hand pain?” 

“Not really,” he admitted and walked towards your desk. He bent down and picked up your pen, carefully placing it on the desk. “That feels more like a Monday thing. Today’s Friday.” 

“I’m glad that you know the days of the week. I think I should be concerned if you didn’t.” 

“Not marking by computer? You complained about it a lot. I thought you would switch over once you got your own classroom” he said, taking another few tentative steps closer to you. 

You straighten up in your chair. “I tried, but I think I like marking by hand better. It’s different and I’m kind of used to it thanks to you.” 

He smiled. “I have something for you.” 

“Wow! A present for me? Maybe I should have quit being your teacher assistant if I knew it led to presents.” 

He rolled his eyes and brought a box from behind his back. It was wrapped with red paper. You unwrapped it

It was a box of red pens. The same brand that he used and the same ones that you went through multiples of marking things with him. There was a sticky note attached to the back of the clear plastic container and you turned it over. 

Written in red pen, it wrote: 

_Will you go out with me?_

You looked up at him. He was, quite literary, towering over you. He had always been taller than you by a lot, but with you sitting down, he seemed larger than life itself. Something was different in the way he looked at you, but it seemed so familiar. 

“I want to hear you say it,” you said, putting down the box of pens and standing up. “I want to hear you say it.” 

“Will you go out with me? Someone who is not my teacher’s assistant and as someone who’s a teacher not breaking any rash rules made by me.” He paused. “Someone who I waited a really long time to ask out.” 

You smiled and took a step closer to him. “Hmm….I don’t know. Can I think about it?” 

“Seriously?” He said, but a small grin played on his lips. 

“It’ll just take a second,” you said, tapping your chin, pretending to think. After a moment, you said, “I’ll take it under consideration. I have a lot of essays to mark.” 

He grabbed your hand. “Come on. We’ll get something to eat and then I’ll help you mark them.” 

You grabbed your jacket. “Such a hot date.” 

“You know it.” 

You headed out of the classroom with Tsukishima’s hand in yours, throwing out the blue pen as you did. 

You’ve always liked the red ones better. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that you probably won’t get a job a year after, but it would be weird if I did like “5 years after” cause Tsuki would probably ask them out by then and wouldn’t wait that long….
> 
> Here’s the part 2 as promised!! I hope that you enjoyed it! This was actually really fun to write and didn’t take that long to write which is weird. I think it liked this one better than the first one lol. Stay safe everyone - Kiwi


	16. Sun Flowers - Kageyama Tobio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Royal x commoner, Kingdom  
> Requested  
> Non-Binary (Gender Neutral) reader, fluff  
> Word Count: 1K+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

"Meryl! Set out the flowers!"

"What? Why?"

The lady running the flower shop swiped her dirt covered hands along her apron.

"The Prince and his partner are coming into town!"

The local kingdom streets were bustling around as everyone prepared for the royal’s arrival.

"(Y/N)'s coming? It's been a while since we've seen them around."

"King Koushi has been sick recently, (Y/N) has been staying there to help."

(Y/N) worked in the town's stable, helping travellers settle in and move out. The first thing they'd see would be the smiling face of the town's most prized member. It was at the stable where they first met. The prince and the town's own commoner. No one was around to see the meet-cute of the century, but everyone believes it to have been the most heartwarming interaction ever.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

"Your highness, try not to move, your boot's caught."

"Don't tell me what to d-"

You had found it difficult not to laugh in that particular moment. The memory that was held in the walls of the town stable was always on the forefront of your mind as you rode by. Tobio sat next to you, wearing his more modest clothes meant for traversing the roads outside the castle. He sent a glare your way.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" You huffed happily.

"I know what your thinking and if you say any word-"

"What, too embarrassed about falling off your horse?"

"I was flustered and you weren't help-"

"Flustered? Do I fluster you Tobio?"

You could hear the coachman laugh, making Tobio grumble and give you an endearing pout that is so rarely seen.

You gave his knee a pat before leaning back into your seat and looking out the window.

"Cheer up, we're picking up flowers for your parents, and I don't think the vast majority of people would like to see your gloomy face. They'll think Koushi died!"

To your surprise (and not that of the eavesdropping coachman), Tobio rested his head on your shoulder. His arm wrapped around yours, fingers reaching to fiddle with the end of your shirt's sleeve. You sighed, but moved your head to give him more room.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The town's people sent the two of you waves and smiles as you walked through. The flower shop had their best flowers laid out, something you knew they only did when royalty came around, and Meryl stood ready for your arrival.

"We've prepared you with our finest flowers, a bouquet of pansy, salvia, and cyclamen as requested."

Tobio nodded, taking the bouquet with an awkward but gracious smile.

You looked at the cool coloured bunch of flowers before looking back into the shop.

"Meryl, could we maybe add a few sunflowers to the bouquet? King Daichi will be giving these to Koushi, I think they would add a bit more meaning to the flowers and the colours would match well."

Meryl, who had been looking nervous the whole time, gave you a gracious smile. You could tell she had been wanting to change the arrangement Daichi had requested but didn't want to do something out of line.

"That's a heat idea, (Y/N). Especially for the kings. I'll go do that now." She hurriedly took the flowers out of Tobio's grip and ran inside to do the additional touches. 

From outside the window, you could see her mom laugh at her nervousness. Sure, the prince was intimidating, but you had known Meryl and her family for years. Her mom seemed to think the same thing, and sent her out, finished bouquet in hand.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

"King Daichi, Prince Kageyama and (Y/N) are back from their trip into town," one of the knights called from the study's entrance to the King, after being notified about their presence by the gates.

"Oh thank god, please send them my way. I'll be heading to Koushi in a minute."

Nodding the knight hurried off as Daichi gathered his papers and made his way through the ornate hallways to the bedroom that Koushi had been spending that past few days in. Past the many painted portraits that hung on the walls and outside the room’s entrance Daichi waited for the hurried footsteps of his son and surrogate child coming toward him, flowers in hand.

"Sunflowers? I didn't ask for sunflowers."

"Sorry it was my idea," you sighed, digging your heel into the polish floor.

Daichi laughed, before happily accepting the flowers. He gave you a thankful nod and opened the door for the three of you to enter.

Koushi sat upright on the bed, book in hand, as he tried not to nervously bite his nails. 

"Sweetheart, don't bite your thumb off."

Koushi shot the other King with an annoyed look. "Do you want me to bite yours o- are those flowers?"

You pulled Tobio to the chairs at the side of the room, sinking into the cushions as you silently observed the couple. Tobio just cringed, making you slap his arm.

"Uh ya I chose them out for you."

"And made the kids go do your dirty work." Koushi gently took the flowers out of Daichi's nervous hands, "thank you though, it was very kind of you to think of me."

Daichi began to retort, saying that he was always thinking of his lover. Tobio nearly gagged next to you, encouraging an elbow to the side being supported by the glare.

"What?"

"If I ever get a cold you better treat me like that or I'm leaving."

He huffed, "and if I ever get sick it'll be because of watching my dads flirt."

You stifled a horrid laugh. Deciding the better option in your mind, you leaned over the armrest placing a quick kiss to the prince's cheek and resting your head on his shoulder.

"I think you'll make a great king, you know?"

He bounced his shoulder a bit. "Only if I have you by my side."

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was sufficient But overall I think it was cute and fluffy, so I’m happy with it. -Bacon


	17. Headline Pt.1 - Kuroo Tetsurou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Parent/Accidentally Pregnancy  
> FEM!Reader  
> Word Count: 2.3K+

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

_“Long time girlfriend of Tokyo volleyball player, Tetsurou Kuroo, left their apartment early in the morning with a bag. Is it splitsville for them?”_

You rolled your eyes, laughing slightly as you read the article headline. The “early morning” was for your early meeting and your bag was filled with books that you were returning to the library, books that you wanted to throw at the person who wrote that. 

This must have been the fifth article that you read this week about yourself and at first, you were annoyed or angry, but after a second, you always found it kind of funny. Where did these people get their ideas for stories? Did they just put them into a random prompt generator? 

The only thing that you knew for certain was that someone was outside of your apartment taking photos which is a little unsettling. You’d have to remind Kuroo later, maybe see if the two of you could get a little extra security. 

This was your home and you weren’t going to let them take that away from you. 

When you started dating Kuroo, you knew that he was a volleyball player for the Tokyo team, but you didn’t expect for people to be invested in the player’s lives or who they were dating. You didn’t mind though, being with Kuroo was all that you could ask for, and if you had to live with people knowing who you are, then it was worth it. 

Your head turned as you heard Kuroo coming through the front door. “Did you hear? We’re heading for splitsville. I want the apartment. You can have everything else.” 

Kuroo laughed and sat beside you on the couch, picking up your legs and placing them on his lap. “I thought that we broke up 5 months ago? And I want the apartment.” 

“Nope,” you smiled, “Apparently my book-bag holds all of my possessions and I’m leaving you. Why would I leave if I get the apartment? They should really think about that before they post these things. Maybe they should be more cautious of you leaving the apartment.” 

Kuroo patted your legs. “Please, I couldn’t fit anything in one backpack. You’ve seen all my stuff.” He gestured around the room where all of his trinkets were littered around, and then looked back at you, grabbing your hand. “You okay?” 

You lead your head to the side, resting on a pillow. “Yeah. Are you? How was practise?” 

“Tiring. My arms feel like they are going to fall off.” 

“Too bad,” You sighed, “I like your arms.” 

Kuroo laughed. “But I get the day off tomorrow so we could do anything tonight?” 

“Like going out to eat? I already put food in the oven.” 

Kuroo shook his head and leaned over to kiss you. “Something more along these lines.” 

You laughed kissing him back. “The food’s going to burn.” 

“We’ll get take out.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You have been throwing up for the past week. Your throat felt raw every morning after breakfast and your morning ended with you on the bathroom floor and calling in sick to work. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Kuroo asked, putting on his shoes. 

You slipped your feet into your own and stood up, keys in hand to lock the door behind the two of you. “You’re already driving me there. I’ll be fine, Kuroo, I’ve been to the doctor’s office before alone and you went with me last week when they drew my blood” 

“But you don’t like going alone, even if I just sit in the waiting room,” Kuroo frowned, opening the door. “And lucky I did because needles terrify you. You know my hand still hurts from how hard you squeezed it, like, I really thought it would be broken when you let go.” 

You laughed. “I think you would know if your hand was broken. As long as needles aren’t involved then I’ll be okay.” 

“Fine, but if you need me then call me. I’ll always come.” 

You didn’t have to sit in the waiting room for long, but you were nervous. You’ve never been called back when you had blood tested. Usually, they would send you a message from their service system to let you know that things were fine, but somehow you just knew things weren’t fine this time. 

You sat in the doctor's office for a bit though. You were too nervous to look at your phone because you already felt it buzz a couple of times and you knew that it was Kuroo asking how things were, so you looked around the room and read the posters on the walls. 

There was a particularly interesting one about the policies of the office that you didn’t know and one about the effects of food poisoning, which seemed kind of random, but you read it anyways. You were throwing up a lot, so maybe you had food poisoning and it was really bad that you needed medication or something, but the poster told you that food poisoning only lasted a day or two, so that wasn’t it. 

“Ms.(L/N)?” 

You tore your eyes from the poster and to your doctor. “Yes? I’m dying right?” 

Your doctor laughed and sat down behind his desk, placing a white box on it. “No, uhh, quite the opposite really.” 

“What’s the opposite?” 

“Congratulations, you’re pregnant!” Your doctor said, smiling brightly at you brightly. He tapped on the white box in front of him. “These are prenatal vitamins that should last a week or so, but if you want more of them you’ll have to go to a pharmacist.” 

You laughed. “I’m not pregnant.” 

The doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, you are.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Ms. (L/N)...you are.”

“Oh…” 

“Are you okay?” 

You sat up straighter in your chair and smiled, looking down at your stomach. “Yes? I think. I mean, I always wanted to have kids…” 

“Do you need the front desk to call someone for you?” Your doctor suggested. You knew that he was alluding to Kuroo because he was the person you’re usually with and he probably assumed that Kuroo was the father. 

“No, it’s okay,” you stood up. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You went home and baked two dozen cookies. Kuroo called you a stress baker, but never opposed it because it meant that your apartment always smelt like sweets. Apartment. It would be a house soon wouldn’t it? You and Kuroo could afford a house and you’ve always wanted a house when you had kids.

“I smell cookies!” Kuroo announced as he walked through the door. He kicked off his shoes, placing his bag near the door and walked over to the kitchen counter where a fresh batch of cookies sat. He grabbed one and took a bit. “They’re good, but you only bake when you’re stressed. How was the doctor?”

You turned to him, but continued to mix your brownie mix. “It was good. Nothing bad. And I bake regularly too! These are happy cookies.” 

“And what are you happy about?” He asked, taking another cookie.

“I’m pregnant.” 

You didn’t look up as you said it because you didn’t know where Kuroo would stand. You’ve been dating for five years and the topic never really came up, but last year he said something about having a family together. It’s only now that you thought that it could’ve been a joke. 

“Is it mine?” 

You shot up at that. He didn’t look too thrilled, which made you want to throw up the cookies that you ate before he came. “You think I’m cheating on you?” 

He shook his head. “No! It’s just.... You’re pregnant.” 

“I am. That’s what the doctor told me.” 

“What are you going to do with….it?” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What am I going to do? Don’t you mean we? It takes two people to make a human.” 

Kuroo stood up, an unreadable look on his face. 

Your shoulders sank. “You don’t want kids.” 

“I do,” he said quickly. “I just don’t want them now.” 

You blinked. “Not now? It’s not like I can postpone it or something.” 

It was silent for a bit after that. You were looking at Kuroo, but he was looking at the ground. You were really scared in the moment. It was like time had stopped on you but you were still running.

You were frozen.

Kuroo started walking to the door. “I have a practice game tomorrow. You...You can have the apartment.” 

You walked out from behind the counter. “What? Are you breaking up with me? Kuroo?” 

He grabbed his gym bag and shoes and said, “You can have the apartment.” 

Then he left. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Kuroo hasn’t gone back to the apartment to get his stuff yet. He’s been meaning to though. It’s only been a couple of days since his fight with you and he’s been couch hopping. He’s been keeping an eye on the media too, since you told him that there were people stalking the apartment, he made it a point to check it every once in a while to see if you were caught leaving the apartment. 

You weren’t. 

“Kuroo! I need to talk with you,” his coach said. 

They lost their game and even though no one said it, everyone on his team could tell that he was off. He would miss easy set ups, spiked out of the lines and most of his serves hit the net. During the second set of the match, his coach gave him an odd look and switched him out, but Kuroo couldn’t even bring himself to care. He barely watched the rest of the game, his eyes glued to the floor and his mind thinking about you. 

“Yes?” He said, bringing the towel up to his forehead. 

“What’s going on? You’ve been off lately.” 

“I, uhh…” Kuroo said. He and his teammates were close enough to talk about their personal leaves in the locker rooms every now and then, but their coach never asked nor seemed to care. Kuroo was worried about his answer. He didn’t want to lie, in fact he wanted to tell someone, he didn’t mention it to his friends, who let him stay on their couches, but what if telling his coach meant that he would be benched for the rest of the season? 

He already lost you and he didn’t think he could take any more losses. 

“You probably don’t want to tell me,” his coach started, before Kuroo could decide whether to lie or not. “But what you’re going through affects this team, which affects me. The truth, please. I won’t judge.” 

But people always do. 

“My girlfriend,” Kuroo said in a low voice. Practice was still going on and the sound of volleyballs smacking the floor drowned out their voices, but this wasn’t something that Kuroo wanted other people to know. “She’s pregnant and I broke up with her? Kind of? I left after she told me.” 

The coach’s face hardened. He was definitely judging, but Kuroo didn’t mind, he deserved the judgement. 

“Is that something you want?” His coach let out slowly. “A kid?” 

“At this moment, I don’t know?” Kuroo said, leaning against the wall of the gym. “I’ve always wanted a future with her and a future like that, one where we would get married and all the things that come after that happened, I see kids. In our future, I see kids. I think I was scared…I didn’t think that we would just skip all those steps.” 

His coach sighed. “Kuroo, I’ve had four kids and each time is scarier than the first. It’s terrifying to bring someone into the world, but it’s one of the most amazing things too. What you’re feeling now, your girlfriend is probably just, maybe even more scared than that. Breaking up with her and leaving as soon as she told you? That might be a side effect of you being scared, but it doesn’t mean it was right, it doesn’t mean you leave her alone when she’s scared. You love her right?” 

Kuroo nodded. “But what if I got back and she doesn’t want me anymore?” 

“Then you offer what you can,” his coach said, patting him on the shoulder, “and you accept the consequences for your actions.” 

Kuroo rubbed his eyes. “Can I be excused from the rest of practise?” 

His coach gave him a sad smile. “In my mind, you’re already out the door.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Kuroo was breathless as he climbed the stairs to the apartment. He was still in his volleyball clothes with his keys clutched in his hand. 

“(Y/N)?!” 

The apartment was the same as he left it, the cookies were still on the table and the kitchen light on. 

“(Y/N)! I’m really sorry. I want this kid. I want to spend the rest of my life with you if you’ll let me. I’m so sorry. (Y/N)?” 

No one answered back. 

He rounded the corner and went to your bedroom. All of his stuff was still there, but your side of the room was empty. 

Your clothes gone. Your books gone. Your pillow gone. 

“(Y/N)?” 

Kuroo slowly backed out of the room. Numbly, his footsteps brought him back to the kitchen and saw a piece of paper on the counter that he had overlooked. 

_You can have the apartment._

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested! There will be a second part too… I’ve never wrote something like this before...so I hope it’s okay. Sorry that it’s up a day late :( I’ll try my best to be on time next, next week!!!!
> 
> To the requester: I changed the ending just a tad bit...I hope you’re okay with that!!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!! - Kiwi


	18. Tea and Tuna - Kita Shinsuke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU: First words said to you by your soulmate are written on your wrist  
> Requested (I changed it up a bit but it still follows)  
> Word Count: 1.5K+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

It was a late evening on a school night and the sun was beginning to set, taking the last bit warm weather with it. The sky began to turn various shades of pink and orange. You sat at the back of the classroom with a neat stack of books at your side, waiting to be shelved. Behind you, your friend Hina swayed to the beat of her music pumping through her headset as she swept the floor. Following her rapid steps was Yua, who wiped down the tables to get rid of dirt and doodles left by bored students. Autumn was okay, once the weather started to get cold it meant more layers which you weren’t a big fan of.

At least the colours are pretty. You thought as you watched the sun begin to lower.

As you mindlessly placed the books on their shelf, you were late when reacting to what was going on behind you. Yua’s amused voice broke through.

“Hina, no,” she laughed. “Watch out.” She didn’t sound at all worried.

Something bounced off your head with a hollow thunk and your perfectly stacked books were easily taken down by Hina’s weight. Grabbing the book that landed on your lap you used the stiff cover to pat the forehead of the giggling music enthusiast before stashing it away.

“I swear, Hina, you need a new pair of feet, sweetheart,” you laughed as you picked up the broom that fell.

“My feet are perfectly fine, thank you,” she huffed, grabbing Yua’s hand.

Yua easily picked Hina up, who was almost launched in the other direction from the force, as she replied.

"I could always cut them off? Where's my hack saw?"

Spinning quickly on your knees you stared in horror at the casual grin on her face.

"Yua! No!"

"What?! I was kidding!" She whined, throwing her hand in the air. Narrowly hitting Hina's face.

"Gah! Watch it! You nearly took her head off!"

Throwing her arms down, Yua grabbed the wipe and spray off of the table and got back to cleaning the last few desks. "Why am I getting reprimanded?" She grumbled.

Hina skipped over, picking up all the fallen books as she went, and began to help you finish putting them away. Once she was at your side and had all the books in her arms, you left the work to her so you could face Yua. Yua had her legs spread on either side of the chair she sat on, making her volleyball shorts visible below her grey and black plaid skirt. She ruffled her shortly cropped hair, before stuffing her school bag closed.

Your brow pinched together as you checked the calendar that was pinned up on the classroom’s wall. “Yua, hun,” you called, “Don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

“Yup, sure do,” she yawned.

“And didn’t you have practice this morning?”

“Sure did.”

There was a pause as you watched the two girls finish packing up.

“Yua?”

“Yup?”

“Where’s your sports bag?”

Hina laughed loudly, throwing her head backwards and holding her stomach as she watched Yua spin in circles, searching for her extra bag. Despite Hina being a great singer, her laugh sounded like an emu giving birth to a carburetor. Yua growled as she gripped the roots of her hair tightly.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Did you leave it in the gym?” Hina asked after her laughing fit.

“Probably,” she said, rolling her head over her shoulders.

“Well,” You hummed a bit as you threw on your coat, getting ready to leave, “The gym is on the way and the boys are practicing this evening, so we can drop by to pick up your stuff. Hina put on your coat, it's cold out.”

Hina huffed but followed your suggestion anyway. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. My family’s going out to dinner, and I don’t want to be late.”

Yua waved Hina goodbye once you all got to the exit. You called out to her once her back was turned.

“Hina, your laces are untied!”

One step too close to the other sent her flying, tripping over her shoes. Luckily she managed to dance out of falling on her face and shot the two of you a wave of her own. She kept walking with her laces undone. Yua hooked her arm around yours, pulling you in the direction of the gym before you could fret over Hina’s shoes.

“Hey, (Y/N). How did you know the boys were practicing today anyways?”

“Oh I asked one of the teachers what the gym’s schedule was so I could keep track of your practises and games. That reminds me, what do you want to eat before your game tomorrow? Ginger rice or miso salmon?”

Pushing open the gym doors, Yua dragged you inside, waving to the coaches as you walked their way. “I’ll stick with the green tea smoothie you make, thank you though.”

“That sounds rather tasty. (Y/N), you’ll have to give me the recipe.” Coach Kurosu was a nice man, teasing at times, and hid the bags under his eyes behind square-framed glasses.

“Mr. Kurosu, it’s been a while. I can write the recipe down and deliver it tomorrow before Yua’s game. It’s rather easy, but great for energy and it's healthy too.”

Yua sighed next to, interrupting the conversation gently, “I hope you don’t mind coach but I left my bag here this morning. Have you seen it?”

The man chuckled and pointed over in the far corner, “must be the one we tucked over there in the corner. Watch your head, though. The boys are practicing serves.”

Yua nodded as she elbowed your side and left you to continue your conversation of healthy foods with the boy’s volleyball coach. A conversation which led to you pulling out your phone to email him a list of meals that are high in protein that he could give to his players and friends.

“Heads!”

You were used to this. After attending Yua’s games and practices you should be. 

Immediately ducking out of the way of a ball that flew in line with where your head was, you watched as it bounced off of the wall and knocked over the piled water bottles like bowling pins.

You had always thought the word printed on your wrist was about coins. For a while, during middle school, you had gone around asking people to choose heads or tails when flipping a coin. In hindsight, with your wrist burning now, in a gym, without a coin in hand, that might have been a bit ridiculous.

“Atsumu, you need to be more careful, you’ll take someone’s head off.”

Standing up you made a throwaway comment about not having a meal for concussions, which made Kurosu laugh as he picked up the stray ball. He handed off to one of the older players that came your way.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking the ball off his coach’s hands.

“Oh ya. I’ve got eyes at the back of my head,” you said laughing as you started to pick up the bottles. “As I just said, I don’t have a meal for concussions so I need to be able to dodge balls.”

Yua, who had made her way back from the corner of the gym (while expertly dodging every ball that came her way), groaned “You dodge balls by scaring guys away with your overbearing attitude.”

“Yua, please. Watch your language, the coach is here.”

“I didn’t swear, Mom. It’s not my fault you’ve taken a vow of abstinence until you met your soulmate.”

“Yua!”

It was a bit more than embarrassing, you were used to your friends being more than brash in friendly quarters. You can’t say you hadn’t had moments of crude hilarity yourself, but an adult was present, and he didn’t need to know about anything more than your grades and healthy food choices for athletes.

“Well, Yua,” the player spoke up, “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that for much longer.”

Wait. The burning. You forgot about the burning in your rush to duck out of the way of projectiles flying at your head. You rushed to pull the sleeve of your uniform to see the word printed there.

“Kita! That’s not how you ask a girl out!”

The word on your wrist had changed colour.

“Atsumu, I won’t make you any fatty tuna if you keep yapping!”

You looked up at the player’s light coloured hair that made the black tips stand out as they sit in the open spaces of the boy’s forehead and cheekbones.

“You can make fatty tuna?” You asked, shoulders rising with a smile.

Yua groaned.

“Ya, sort of have to with these guys always asking for food.”

With a bit of a squeal, Kita was easily dragged into a friendly conversation about food with his soulmate. A soulmate who seemed almost a bit overly excited when coach Kurosu gave in his share of ideas on side dishes. Yua waited patiently on the side, texting Hina who seemed bored at dinner but excited about the new development revolving around their friend.

So does that mean we can add a dad to our friend group?

Yua swallowed a thick gag but replied with a flat, ‘yes’.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fluff, that's it. - Bacon


	19. Headline Pt.2 - Kuroo Tetsurou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Parent/Accidentally Pregnancy  
> FEM!Reader  
> Word Count: 2.7k

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

_“No activity at Kuroo and girlfriend’s apartment. Strange? Did they move?”_

Kuroo made it a point to not look at the media anymore. There were too many lies and it made his blood boil, but at least the lies were better than what actually happened.

All of them were better than what happened.

The first night without you, he woke up without you beside him and felt wrong. When he finally got out of bed, he looked around the bedroom and didn’t see your stuff littered around and that made his heart drop. The last straw was not seeing you in the kitchen, baking or smiling, and it made his stomach turn.

After that night, he couldn’t stay there anymore. The apartment was empty without you.

Later that day, volleyball practice was a mess, it was even worse than the game he did earlier that week. His couch must have known what happened from the look on his face, but, thankfully, didn’t say anything.

He gave Kuroo the week off which he gladly accepted.

He went back to the apartment one last time and packed all of the things that he needed and headed over to Kenma’s. Kenma’s house always acted as a safe haven for him. It’s the place he would go to after the two of you fought, but Kenma would always kick him out before he could suggest sleeping over.

“Get out and fix your argument. You’re only going to make things worse if you hide,” Kenma would say, and then slam the door in his face.

However, when Kenma opened the door this time and saw Kuroo’s tear-stained face with bags in hand, he didn’t say anything and just opened the door. Kuroo never went over to Kenma’s house with open tears, usually, he would suck it up like a man and cry in the car ride over, but wipe his face before he rang Kenma’s doorbell.

For a while, all he did was stare at the ceiling, rejecting all of the offers Kenma gave him like water and trying to talk about it. It was only later in the night when Kuroo spilled his guts about anything.

Kenma listened carefully, never judging, but a worried expression rested on his face. “She just left?”

Kuroo wiped his cheek and took a sip of water. “Yeah...she did. I don’t blame her though...I’m just worried about her. She doesn’t have a good relationship with her parents, so she wouldn’t go there, and most of her friends live within 20 minutes of us and she’s not with any of them. She’s gone.”

“Kuroo…”

“And she’s pregnant,” Kuroo sobbed, “she’s probably scared, tired, holy shit. What did I do?”

“Kuroo…”

Kuroo looked up at Kenma. Kenma’s eyes widened in shock. He’s never seen Kuroo like this…

“I left her alone, Kenma,” he whispered. “I left her alone.”

Kuroo kept mumbling to himself like that until he fell asleep on the couch, choking on his words. Kenma was sitting beside him still awake and he picked up his phone. He scrolled through his contacts until your name showed up. His hand hovered over the call button for a while. It was late in Japan, but for all he knew you were on the other side of the world.

He finally clicked the call button and held it up to his ear.

You didn’t answer.

He hung up and called again.

You didn’t answer again.

He was a little disappointed, but he didn’t have his hopes up in the first place. Kenma looked over to Kuroo. He was still mumbling to himself and hugging the couch pillow, his head burrowing itself deeper into the couch cushion.

Kenma opened up your text chat. _(Y/N)..._ _I feel like you’re there. Answer me, please._

He waited a bit, but you didn’t answer. He shook his head and flipped back to the game that he was playing before Kuroo came over.

Just as he was about to beat the final boss, a message popped down on his screen.

_Are you with Kuroo?_

He immediately switched back to his texting app and replied, _Yes._

He waited.

_Leave me alone Kenma...please_

_Wait, just tell me if you're safe....do you need anything? Kuroo’s really worried…._

_I’m safe. Bye Kenma._

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Your new home was a lot smaller than the one you shared with Kuroo, but you loved it. This apartment didn’t have a single trace of him. In fact, you liked how small it was; it was cozy and you never felt alone.

Well, you weren’t alone and when you felt alone, you’d look down at your ever growing abdomen and pat it, whispering, “It’s only you and me now.”

Sharing the apartment with Kuroo for years helped you, financially, in a sense. For a little less than a year, Kuroo paid for the apartment in full until you pushed to pay for half of it. From that, living without paying for a while, meant more money in your account than you expected.

You didn’t go far. You brought the furthest train ticket that was available at four in the morning and went there. Absolutely nothing was planned. For the entirety of your train ride, you looked for places that you could stay. One of the passengers, on elderly lady, Mei, who was on your train seemed to take pity on you because when she offered you cookies, you burst out crying, and she offered to help you from that point on. She was on her way back home from her husband’s grave in Tokyo.

You had luck on your side. She told you that the apartment complex she lived in had an apartment opened for rent, and a few phone calls later, you had a roof over your head.

She helped you a lot too after she found out that you were pregnant. Once you moved in, Mei would check on you every now and then to make sure you were eating and getting enough rest. The entire complex was nice to you. They would bring you sweets every now and then and wave to you in the hallways.

After the first few months, you got into a good pattern. Luckily, your work from Tokyo allowed you to work from a laptop so most of your time was spent doing work.

At first, you were angry. Always angry. You couldn’t even turn to your stress baking ways because all you thought about was how Kuroo would walk in on you baking in the kitchen, laugh, take a bite of whatever you were making, and then talk to you about what was stressing you out that day.

Then you were sad until you couldn’t be anymore. The baby was coming soon and you had to prepare, physically and mentally.

You could raise a kid here, you thought.

You can do it.

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**_9 Months later_ **

Your doctor put you on bed rest, a literal order to sit and do nothing until your baby came.

Since then, Mei would check up on you more often. She would bring you food and help you when you need to get up for a little bit. Mostly, she just sat beside you and told you stories about how she met her husband and how he died (which always made you cry) until you fell asleep.

You woke up in pain. Your stomach was crampy and your bed was wet. You reached up and flicked on the light.

Blood soaked your sheets.

You started to panic and cry.

Slowly and carefully, you made your way to the front door, droplets of blood following your path. You opened the door and stumbled into the hallway, making your way a couple of doors down where Mei lived.

You banged on her door until she answered, blood still spilling between your thighs.

Her eyes were half closed and she was still in her pyjamas. “(Y/N)?”

“Something’s wrong,” you cried and fell to the floor.

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Kuroo’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Today, he came fully dressed in his uniform, so he left his bag on the gym floor and went straight to practice. His phone was on vibrate, but whenever there was a silent moment in the gymnasium, everyone could hear the phone vibrating against the floor.

It was to the point where his coach gave him an annoyed look and called for a 10-minute break.

The call just ended when Kuroo got to his bag. He had seven missed calls from an unknown number. He looked through his phone for a bit to figure out if they left any messages and right when he was about to call them back, the mystery caller returned.

“Hello?” Kuroo said.

“Hello,” the caller replied. “Are you Kuroo Tetsurou?”

“Yes?”

“I’m calling from Uji Hospital in Saitama. You are listed as (F/N) (L/N)’s emergency contact. She is currently in recovery.”

Kuroo heart dropped. He held the phone closer. “R-Recovery?”

“Yes,” the caller said. “A neighbour of Ms.(L/N)’s brought her in early this morning and she had an emergency c-section.”

Kuroo’s coach was calling him over but he couldn’t care less about volleyball. “What hospital was it?”

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You woke up with your stomach hurting. Your eyes were blurry and your throat was raw. Looking down, you saw that your abdomen deflated a bit. You turned your head to your side and saw the Mei sitting beside you.

“What happened?”

Mei jumped up. “(Y/N)? You’re in the hospital. You gave me quite the scare this morning. You had to have a c-section, but your son is fine.”

Your eyes watered. “I have a son?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “It’s a boy. Hold on a second, I’m going to get a doctor and tell them you’re awake and then I’ll see if you can hold your son.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

Your doctor returned without Mei and checked on you. You had to stay for a few days to make sure there were no infections or complications, but otherwise, you were in good health. Mei came back and stayed with you a bit and then had to leave, but assured you that a nurse was going to bring your baby down so that you could meet.

You don’t know how long you waited, but your eyes were getting tired. Once you heard a knock on your door, you sat up slowly, hoping that it was the nurse.

“Come in.”

Kuroo was standing at the door. He was in his volleyball uniform and he was breathing heavily.

“(Y/N).”

You frowned and leaned back into the bed. “How did you know where I am?”

Hesitantly, Kuroo took a step into the room and shut the door behind him. “I guess….I’m your emergency contact?”

“Oh,” you said. You forgot you changed it to him. After you left home, the emergency contact was your parents by default, but when you and Kuroo started getting serious, you changed it to him. You always meant to tell him, but you forgot.

Kuroo took another step closer to you. “I didn’t know I was your emergency contact...I was really surprised when I got the call, but I came as soon as I could...”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” Kuroo rushed. “It’s okay.”

You were playing with the blanket, looking down. The two of you were nothing like you were months ago.

“I went back to the apartment, after that day,” Kuroo whispered. He was looking at the monitors that you were hooked up too, but his glaze slowly moved to you. “I went back a couple of hours after….but you were already gone.”

“Oh…”

“I’m not blaming you,” he said, taking another step closer. You always kind of hated how tall he was, especially knowing that you were laying in a bed. He was towering over you.“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry and that sounds like such a stupid word right now, but I am truly sorry.”

You looked up at him. His hair was longer than before and he looked a bit skinner. “What were you going to tell me? That day?”

Kuroo blinked. “I was going to tell you that I’m all in.”

“Kuroo…”

“Wait,” he said, holding out his hand. “Just listen to me okay? And then you can say whatever you want to say and I’ll accept it, or at least see if from your perspective, okay?”

You nodded slowly, relaxing your arms into the blanket.

“I am all in,” Kuroo started. “I want this. I want everything with this — with you. I’m sorry for what I said. It was a reaction. A bad reaction and I know that I can’t take it back, but I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I’m sorry (Y/N). I want the rest of my life to be with you and our baby if you’ll let me.”

You were silent and Kuroo was looking at you with hopeful eyes.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, shaking your head. “How do I know if 5 or 10 years down the line you’ll change your mind and history repeats itself? Kuroo, the moment I told you, you left me. I don’t….I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”

“(Y/N), I -”

There was a knock on the door followed by it opening. A nurse walked in pushing a cart with an opened plexiglass top box and a baby in it, your baby. You watched as Kuroo stepped aside, his eyes glued in the baby as the nurse grew closer to you.

The nurse looked to Kuroo and then back at you. “Am I interrupting something? I can come back.”

“No,” you said quickly, tears blurring your vision. “No...I— can I hold him?”

“Him?” Kuroo whispered. There were tears in his eyes too, but he froze in place.

The nurse smiled at you. “Of course.”

The nurse carefully lifted the baby out of the plexiglass box and placed him in your arms. You held the baby close.

He was so small.

“Do you have a name yet?” The nurse asked.

“No...I um…”

You held your baby closer. He was sleeping or at least you thought he was sleeping. He was kind of opening and closing his eyes, but he remained still for the most part. He was perfect.

“Can I see him?” You looked up at Kuroo. He was still standing in the same place, but he looked as if he wanted to rush over.

You looked down. The baby was nestling into the crook of your arm. “Yeah, come over.”

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” The nurse said, and left the room.

Kuroo walked over to your bed and crouched down beside you, careful not to touch you. His eyes were wide. He held out his finger carefully and touched his son’s cheek. “He’s perfect.”

This was perfect. This moment.

“Kuroo?”

He looked up at you, his hand still on the baby’s cheek. “I don’t trust you still….and I can’t say it’ll be a perfect system, but our baby...he’s only a couple of hours old, but he already deserves the best. I want him to have everything and...everything includes you. I’m willing to try.”

Kuroo nodded his tears streaking down his. “Thank you.”

You smiled and looked back at your son. “What should we name him?”

 **•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•** ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small note...I know absolutely nothing about pregnancy or Japan’s geography so just disregard any inconsistencies about that...  
> Ta Da!!!! You have reached the end!!!!! LMao though… sorry it’s late….again. Thank you to the person who requested!!! I loved writing this :( It’s kind of a bittersweet ending, but nothing really comes easily, so I think it would’ve been weird if they ended up completely happy…
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it!!! Like I said before, this is my first time writing something like this before, so I hope it was okay! I’ll try not to be late next time too...but I said that last time so….sorry about that!! But Bacon is the best so :(( (I know I am)
> 
> *Bonus* I think they would’ve named their son after Mei’s late husband cause she helped so much...I didn’t write it but just know Mei helped a lot :(
> 
> Thank you for reading! -Kiwi 


	20. Mind Boggling Pt.2 - Miya Atsumu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU: At particular times (Once a year/ certain age/ hours/ or randomly) soulmates swap bodies for some time. (Specifics vary from story to story but I love this au wholeheartedly)
> 
> You guys wanted a part two and I forgot. Manga spoilers ahead.  
> Word Count: 2K

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

It was loud in the gym. The Black Jackals were split into two teams in the centre court of their official gym. Coaches Foster and Sato were at the side of the court. Foster stood atop the metal platform attached to the nets pole, whistle in mouth, ready to make calls for the scrimmage. Sato held a pen and binder, taking notes as he wandered along the sides of the court listening whenever Headcoach Foster had something to add from his higher viewpoint.

A point went to the B team and the blue and yellow ball rolled under the net. It weaved between the various players’ feet, to Atsumu who was waving in a silent request. Scooping the ball into his arms and making his way to the backline. He turned around, twisting the ball in his hands for a moment, before becoming still. The team waited for a moment, expecting him to start his ritualistic steps in preparation for one of his jump serves.

"Tsum-Tsum, if you don't serve the ball goes to the other team."

"I know, but I can't!"

The player’s head tilted and shoulders slumped forward. “What do you mean you can’t? You’re a volleyball player.”

Atsumu glared at the freshly snow bleached player, "Damn it, Koutarou. I don't know how to serve. How do you expect me to do anything?"

The wing spiker wore a blank look, eyes unfocused as he stared past the blond’s head at the gym's white wall. His eyebrows and jaw began to push in opposite directions. Flopping his head over his shoulder he waved over to the team's coach, who looked a bit more than peeved that the practice match wasn't progressing.

"Hey, coach! (Y/N)'s here!"

Still holding the ball you sent the older man a meek wave. His head drooped. After taking a quick look at the binder in his assistant’s arm he called over you and one of the players on the other side of the net. Once both of you got to Foster’s side he yelled at the team to keep playing. You quickly tossed the ball to Koutarou.

"Okay, Sakusa. For now, until the end of practice, you're going to join coach Sato and teach (L/N) how to play. Luckily due to Miya's muscle memory, it'll hopefully be easier than teaching an absolute amateur. So get to it."

Foster silently asked Sato for his binder and pen to continue notes as he was gone. The younger coach handed it over with no complaints and set forward in the direction of one of the other courts in the large room. Kiyoomi gave you a nod. You watched as the dark-haired player bent his wrists so his fingers touched the bruised inside of his arm. They cracked, making you wince. Looking away from the flexible joints of Atsumu’s teammate, you gave a final look towards the other players before following the silent man and coach to begin your individual practice.

Sato had made a quick stop to the side of the room where his bag seemed to be and pulled out another folder. It was smaller in size, probably meant to be used as a backup copy or just had information that didn't have to be altered over time. He also grabbed a ball from the square basket and gave it an underhand toss to Kiyoomi. 

“So, (L/N). This is a bit new, isn’t it?” Sato laughed, “well as you should know, Miya plays in the setter position. Meaning he is usually the second player to handle the ball. He is a well-rounded player but his best strengths relate to his strategy and sense for the game. He-”

“Coach Sato?” You interjected, receiving a quick hum and look of approval from the man. “As much as I enjoy hearing your praises for my boyfriend, I already know most of this.”

The coach nodded quickly, “Right, right. You’re absolutely right. You’ve probably watched him play for years.”

The man fumbled over his words. It made you laugh but elicited no reaction from Kiyoomi, who was rubbing his hands together.

“It’s alright, but it might be better to get started before practice ends.”

Sato nodded and set down the black folder. You noticed that it had the BJ’s logo and player stats printed on the front. “Let’s start with bumping then.”

Practice progressed for a bit over an hour until Foster yelled at everyone to hit the showers because we ‘all smelled like fat pigs after a run through a mud pile mixed with onions.’ Throughout the available time, you had managed to get bumping down rather easily, and although you could execute on a lot of the other skills needed to play, you didn’t have the same game sense that Atsumu had to put any strength behind your movements. You were slow. Getting to the ball was easy (until they sent an ace serve your way), you quickly learned every moment and how to complete it (until you had to move fast and tripped), and you understood the rules (until they asked you what they were.) You were doing great.

Home felt like a safe haven in comparison to the cold gym of the Black Jackals training facility. You couldn’t wait to walk into your house and crash onto the deep couch that sat in the middle of the living room. Getting out of Atsumu’s car to walk up to the front door of the house was a chore. Tired arms and legs make it hard to pull out his key and get the door unlocked, but relaxing on the couch would be worth it.

Your body was already on the couch, eating away at a large pizza. The tv was on, playing compilations of volleyball moves and techniques from various angles and teams.

“Tsumu. Please stop using my body to pig out on food. I need to be healthy too.”

Hearing Atsumu whine through your own mouth made you cringe, it always sounded higher than you were used to.

“It’s our body (Y/N)! Let’s enjoy it.”

Letting out an amused scoff, you dropped his sports bag next to the plush couch before flopping onto it, next to him. You grabbed a slice and took a large bite before he could stop you.

“Hey don’t do that! I need to stay healthy!”

“So do I, you hypocrite!’ You took another bit before lightly slapping your body’s hand away.

A moment of silence passed and both of your bodies settled back into the couch.

“So, practice?”

You sighed, taking another bite, “You’re going to need to teach me how to play, should the switch happen during a game.”

He smiled, “Really?”

Letting out a low groan (which you were happy to hear as it came out of Atsumu’s mouth), “I don’t want it, though. Today was enough.”

“Nope. Coach’s orders. Come on, we’re getting started.”

As he jumped up from his seat, the large shirt you were wearing rolled upward, exposing a small line of your stomach. You glared for a moment, it has been a while since you’ve exercised. At least you wouldn’t be feeling the pain at the moment, maybe tomorrow when you got switched off. That wasn’t what had caught your eye though.

“Tsumu, did you take my bra off?”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The morning following that late-night practice in the backyard you told Atsumu that he had to work out whenever he was in your body. You were sore, extremely so, but at least Atsumu could push himself and you’d only need to deal with the after-effects. He wasn’t a fan of the idea though, preferring his original plans to lounge and eat junk all the time. A quick glare and glance got him to agree. 

Learning volleyball was harder in your own body, it had gotten easier over time, but you still didn’t like having to work extra. Atsumu would often make it unbearable with his boasting.

“Come on. You love me.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not making you a giant onigiri.”

“Come on, Samu!”

The second twin chuckled before sliding a regular sized snack your way. Despite the disappointing size of the rice ball, you smiled thankfully. It was your favourite kind. 

“Shouldn’t you be in the stands watching the game?”

You waved a hand dismissively as you pulled your bit away from the tasty rise ball. You wanted to take another bit right there.

“Ah, there’s a tv right there, and I wanted to give you and your workers some company. And besides,” you took another bite, “He won’t even know I’m- Fuck.”

“Bring it to me!”

Off your fingertips, the ball soared through the air. Directly in your line of sight, you watched its direction get interrupted by the carrot-headed wing spiker. Shoyo, bubbly as ever, landed from his towering jump and bounded toward you to give you a high five.

“Tsumu! Great toss!”

“Thank you Shoyo, but it’s not Tsumu.”

The stadium was loud, too loud. You had spent the majority of the final set with Osamu, eating food and watching the live broadcast going on through the rim of the stadium. Getting back into position for the other team’s serve, you gave a quick thought to what Atsumu might be thinking. You couldn’t dwell on his likely dejected attitude for long though because in under a second that ball was flying right over your head and into Inunaki’s arms.

Hopping on your toes you made a quick sidestep to get underneath the rapidly falling ball. You listened for the squeaking footsteps behind you. Tilting your head back while looking up, your fingers made contact with the ball. They bent, creating a cushion and with a light flick of the wrist and push from the tips of Atsumu’s fingers, you sent the ball flying into Koutarou’s palm.

It went out.

Sighing, you sent him an apologetic wave to which he pouted. 

Rallys were stressful. But after a couple of minutes and an amazing spike from Kiyoomi, you had been rotated into serving. 

You breathed in deeply, spinning the ball in the palm of your hand. The chant’s of the Black Jackal’s fans roared behind you, lifting your fist in the air, you copied Atsumu’s movement’s and waited for them to go silent.

There was a loud yell.

“Do it (Y/N)!”

Atsumu, I swear to god.

Flipping a look over your shoulder, you saw your own body jumping around at the edge of the bleachers. Atsumu seemed to be in his own world, forgetting all the rules he set up for himself in the game until one of the band members told him to quiet down. None of the fans should be able to recognize you immediately. Romance isn’t used to advertise sports. But knowing the dedication of some people, it wouldn’t take long for them to realize the predicament both of you were in. Most people’s soulmate type was common knowledge, especially celebrities. 

You didn’t have time for this. Sending a glare Atsumu’s way, you quickly began your serve. It was weak for a pro, and people definitely noticed, but it got the job done.

27-25.

After the game, when Atsumu found out outside the change rooms, you berated him. Mildly amused glares were sent between the two of you. When you tried to get into the change room he held you back.

“You did a good job for your first game.”

You huffed, “That’s a lie. You’re just trying to not let me wash your sweaty body in the showers with the rest of the team.”

The inability to hold down a blush was something you struggled with and had learned to dampen over time. Seeing it happen from Atsumu’s perspective was entertaining, though. 

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t great but oh well. 30 minutes after writing this I gave myself light bangs. - Baco


	21. Ready. Aim. Fire? Pt.1 - Sugawara Koushi & Sawamura Daichi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Gang/ Organized Crime  
> Gender Neutral Reader   
> Word Count: 2.4K+
> 
> Disclaimer: contains violent themes and suggestions, gun violence(? Kind of) all of this is fiction and I don’t condone violence...anyways enjoy lol
> 
> Another note: There were a bunch of name inconsistencies so I changed them a bit....

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────• 

You weren't a hateful person despite being the leader of a gang, just a little hostile, but you couldn’t really blame yourself, it ran in your blood. It was a balance of knowing when to take risks, vendetta or not, and being able to live with them. That was one skill that they had mastered very earlier on in their life: the art of acceptance. Being the leader meant making all the tough calls that came through the door.

“(Y/N)! Time to go,” Kuroo called. He poked his head through the door frame and grinned. “Don’t forget your gun.” 

You nodded and reached for the gun in the drawer at your side. You’ve only shot that gun three times and you planned on keeping it that way. You were never a gun person, but it was one of the easiest ways to protect yourself in this line of business. It was kill or be killed and you liked being alive. 

That became somewhat of a reputation between the groups. (F/N) (L/N), leader of the Nekoma Gang and has only discharged their weapon three times, each time a kill, during their reign. One of the most deadly people in the business, never lifting a finger. You were infamous for getting others to do their work, not that they minded though, there was unspoken respect towards you in Nekoma. 

You were the person that saved them from the brink.

“(Y/N),” Kuroo said again. Kuroo was the person that you trusted the most in Nekoma. “We’re going to be late.” 

You rolled your eyes and slid your gun into the holster around your waist. “Then we’re late.” You tucked your chair back in place and grabbed your jacket. “Besides, they can wait. It’s only a meeting with Karasuno.” 

Kuroo scoffed. “‘It’s only Karasuno’ you say as if they aren’t one of the biggest clans out there.” 

You shrugged. “It doesn’t really mean anything to me.” 

“You’re the leader of the Neokma,” Kuroo continued, picking up his pace on the way to the car. “Shouldn’t you concern yourself with other gangs?” 

You laughed, pulling open the passenger seat door. “That’s why I make it your job.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You walked through to the underground entrance of the Karasuno base. It was nearing three in the morning, but there were still guards at every door you’ve seen. When they saw you and Kuroo, most of them kept their head down and pretended that they were doing that the entire time, others would just keep looking straight ahead. However, all of them gave off a nervous vibe which made you laugh. 

Where did Kiyoko find them, you thought. They seem to be very scared. 

Your guess was that they were only trained to respect _their_ leader, Kiyoko. That was something you learned too. 

The relationship between Karasuno and Neokma was weird to say the least. Most of the conflicts are contained within the leaders, meaning that most of their meetings would turn into a war of threats and miscommunications between the two that never amounted to anything. 

When you spoke to Kuroo about it, he told you that it was kind of funny and nobody minded when you and Kiyoko were at each other's throats. 

“It never amounted to anything,” Kuroo said.

Karasuno and Neokma weren’t big feuders or enemies like other gangs, constantly at war with one another. They were more on the calmer side of things. The two groups would mind their own business and wouldn’t attack unless provoked. 

In fact, before you or Kiyoko took over, both groups had been trying to merge for a while, but one complaint always led to another and another until they were back where they started. 

Sawamura met you at the entrance to the main building. He was smiling and you had to hold yourself back to roll your eyes. He was always smiling. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Kuroo said, nodding at Sawamura and nudging you with his elbow. 

“It’s fine,” Sawamura said and opened the door. 

Kiyoko was sitting at the head of the table that was in the middle of the room. One of her hands was on the table, tapping it impatiently. You walked slowly, with your back up straight and a tight smile smirk on your lip. 

“Hello,” you said, taking the head seat at the opposite end of the table. Kuroo came in a bit later and took the chair to your right. Sawamura closed the door and went to sit at the right of Kiyoko as well. “How are you on this fine day?” 

“Why did you call this meeting?” Kiyoko asked, ignoring your question. 

You raised your eyebrows. “I asked for this meeting? You did.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

Sawamura cleared his throat. “Actually, I did.” 

“So did I,” Kuroo quipped. 

You glared at him. You never minded Kuroo doing things like this, taking the lead, but he knew of your and Kiyoko’s relationship and how saying this in front of her would give her the upperhand. It was a part of your plan. Once you decided you didn’t want to do this anymore, you would let Kuroo take over. You knew he had the capability to and everyone in Nekoma trusted him. 

He could do it. 

“You can’t do that Daichi. I’m leaving,” Kiyoko said, her voice rough. “This is a waste of time.” 

“Hear them out,” you said. You agreed with her in one sense, this was probably a waste of time and you were annoyed, but Kiyoko seemed more annoyed which you took some pleasure in. “What is it? Do you guys want to throw a slumber party or something and need our permission?” 

“No,” Sawamura said, his face flushing a bit. 

“That would be fun though,” Kuroo said, kicking you under the table. “But that’s not the reason we wanted you two to meet.” 

“We’ve been trying to merge our groups for a while,” Sawamura continued, sitting up straight in his chair. He had a nervous smile on his face but he sounded confident which you liked. The only confident person you’ve ever heard address leaders that way was Kuroo. However, things seemed to be laidback at Nekoma than Karasuno. “And that hasn’t happened yet.” 

Kuroo nodded. “But both of you don’t have to like each other for us to do that.” 

“We already know all of this,” you interrupted. “And it all ends the same because of the person at the other end of this table.” 

“We don’t get anywhere because of you,” Kiyoko argued. 

You glared and leaned forward. “That’s because you want both groups to follow your lead. That’s not how partnerships or even alliances work. It’s called working together. Not being under a dictatorship.” 

“It’s not a dictatorship! It’s decisions being made.” 

“Woah…” Sawamura said, he looked a bit alarmed and his arms were hovering between you two as if trying to stop a fight before it started. “We’re getting off topic. (Y/N), we are not under a dictatorship and Kiyoko, there are many ways to lead people and some people might not agree with your leadership..” 

Kuroo laughed and shook his head. “Both of our runners, the low level ones both reported more activity in the Aoba Johsai area.” 

“The Aoba Johsai area? The one that took over the Shiratorizawa area overnight?” You blinked. 

“Yes,” Sawamura confirmed. “One of Nekoma’s runners overheard them at a bar on the edge of their territory last week and one of Karasuno’s heard something while on patrol a few days ago. They’re planning something and we need both of you okay to go ahead further.” 

You turned to Kuroo. “Why didn’t I know about this?” 

“Maybe it’s too laid back over on your side,” Kiyoko smirked. “Letting the information slip through the cracks that will get you killed.” 

“Kuroo?” You asked, ignoring Kiyoko’s remark. 

“It was nothing last week when it happened,” Kuroo admitted, giving you a nervous smile. “It was only when I met up with Daichi a few days ago that it got bigger. I know we’re not supposed to share information with anyone outside of Nekoma, but Dachi mentioned just a hint of something and it seems off so I shared. Sorry (Y/N).” 

You closed eyes and sighed. “Tell me next time even if it's nothing. Got it?” 

“Understood.” 

“What is it exactly?” You asked, leaning back into your chair. You were here longer than you wanted to be. “Did the runners get enough info?”

Kiyoko rolled her eyes. “How do you even know it’s real information? You’re runner could be faking it.” 

“True,” you said. “But it went through Kuroo so I trust it. It even went through one of your men so you should too.” 

Before Kiyoko could fire back, Kuroo quickly slipped in, “So do I have the okay to do some more investigating, boss?” 

You glanced over to Kuroo. Over the many years of working with him as your right hand man, the two of you developed a way of communicating without talking. Then your eyes met Sawamura’s. He was giving you a hopeful look. The two of you haven’t spoken much, only exchanging a few words every now and then at meetings, but the look he was giving was only giving him one message: trust him. 

“Fine, but the moment you find something or find nothing you tell me.” 

“Kiyoko?” Sawamura asked. 

She shook her head, stood up and walked towards the door. “(Y/N) can do whatever they want.” 

The sound of the door closing filled the silence. 

“Don’t worry about that,” you said, tapping the table. “It’s not about the situation, she probably can’t stand being in the room with me for more than 10 minutes at a time. Kuroo, go tell her again.” 

“I could go —” Sawamura started. 

“No, (Y/N)’s right,” Kuroo said, already up. “I’ll try to talk with her. Try to make her see if from Neokma’s side because it doesn’t seem that she’s willing to listen to anything that (Y/N) says. No offence.” 

Kuroo gave you one last look and left the room. Sawamura turned to you. “So you’re really okay with this?” 

“I trust Kuroo even if it ends up being nothing,” you said. “It’s enough for me. I’ll check it for myself though.” 

“Okay,” Sawamura smiled. “You can call my Daichi if you want.” 

You glared, ignoring his question. “How did you even get into something like this.” 

Sawamura raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t that a bit personal?” 

“Depends.” 

“Then how didn’t you get into the business?” 

“Isn’t that a bit personal?” You mocked. 

Sawamura grinned. You’ve always appreciated people that you could have easy banter with, then again, you were taught not to trust people who had kind faces, they were the ones who would break you. 

“Stop doing that,” you frowned. 

Sawamura blinked. “Stop what?” 

“Stop smiling. It’ll get you killed.” 

“Are you telling me that my smile _kills_?” He joked. 

“No. Your smile is going to get you killed. If you’re happy, that’s just more things to lose. You should caution yourself or you’ll get crushed.” 

“Nothing’s happened to me yet,” Sawamura said. He knocked on the wood table. 

“Yet.” 

People like Sawamura always get killed, you thought. Deaths like that in gangs always tears the group from the inside out. 

“Why do you hate Kiyoko?” Sawamura asked. “She’s always so nice to us, but once there’s a meeting or anything that involves you, she gets….cold.” 

Kuroo entered the room and gave a thumbs up. You stood up and straightened out your jacket. “She’s my sister and blames me of something that happened a long time ago. You’re asking the wrong questions.” 

“You’re her sister?” Sawamura asked, his voice filled with wonder. “She never mentioned that…” 

“I think...I’ve been dead to her for a very long time now.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Once you entered Nekoma territory, you got out of the car. 

“Go back to base,” you told Kuroo. 

“Where are you going?” He asked. 

“Somewhere. I won’t be long. I just need some air.” 

Kuroo left you hesitantly. It’s been a while since you walked alone on the streets. Kuroo told you that it was dangerous because if anyone wanted to, they could take you out in a second and the whole of Neokma would fall apart overnight like Shiratorizawa. 

You unclicked the buckle for the holster holding your gun and took it out. Its weight was familiar in your grasp and your hand fit easily around the handle. You shoved it in the pocket of your jacket and held it tightly. 

You didn’t know how much longer Kiyoko could be mad at you. She was the only family you had left, she had to forgive you eventually, right?

You heard the sound of footsteps behind you and turned. A figure was walking towards you, quickly. 

You quicken your pace. 

Turning onto an ally, you turned around and stood still, your hand tightening on the gun in your hand. You didn’t want to kill anyone, but you would if you had too. 

You took the gun out of your pocket as the figure turned the corner. 

You raised it. 

The figure came closer into view and flinched when they saw the gun. 

“Sugawara?” You said, lowering your gun slightly. “From Karasuno?” 

He smiled at you. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I thought it was you and chasing a gang boss is probably not my best move…” 

“If it was any other gang leader, you’d be dead,” you said.

“Good thing the one I ran into is the one I know,” he laughed. 

“It’s another smiler,” you mumbled. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

Great. Another person from Karasuno to add to your list of people who are like ticking time bombs. 

“Why are you here?” You asked. 

He pointed behind him. “I was getting a drink with Kenma. I know that walking back isn’t that safe and Asahi would kill me, but I couldn’t find a cab and I walked here.” 

“Is everyone from Karasuno just well acquainted with Neokma?” 

He laughed. “I guess you could say that. Except for….” 

Sugawara froze. You raised your gun. 

“(Y/N)? What are you doing?” 

Aimed. 

“(Y/N)?”

And fired.

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is hard. There’s going to be other parts. 
> 
> I’m tired. It’s 1:30am and I have to be up at 5 am for Bang Bang Con. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!!! - Kiwi
> 
> P.S I have began to recognize my inconsistencies with the names I'll be better with it....well then


	22. Sniff - Kuroo Tetsurou & Kozume Kenma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Werewolf (with hardly any werewolf content, I’m sorry)  
> Requested (I may have changed it a bit, oops)  
> Word Count: 2.1k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Miyagi prefecture was home to many subsidiary pack groups that often were at odd ends with each other. Other prefectures had more balance, forming alliances and annual gatherings to share resources and information. Tokyo was a good example of such, though there were smaller groups that covered less ground, they had a balance. Miyagi did not. Though you were never at the forefront of the various battles that happened between the packs, typically spending your time working on the gardening side of things (which had its own conflicts), you often watched from the sidelines as the various hunters and athletes competed against each other. Training, practicing, getting stronger.

Shiratorizawa was at the top of the food chain in Miyagi, they had the strongest hunters and the largest pack. Aoba Johsai was a rising opponent but never quite made it to the top. Other groups often watched the competitors duke it out when they crossed paths, practice or otherwise. Karasuno, your home base, was small. Most of the buildings in the surrounding area were short and the ground was great for harvesting. Other packs came to your home in need of rice or other vegetables. It had been years since Karasuno was seen as a pack with a fighting chance in the annual trials. The generation that had been known to be award-winning athletes had now grown out of their peak metabolic state, moving on to join the workforce. Very few continued in their sport.

Your family was the head of harvesting. Your father worked with roots and your mother took charge of the pickings, and in your free moments outside of school, you worked in the rice fields. Breaking your back (and others) to gather all the grain when you weren’t learning through the day. 

It was crunch time this year. By some odd chance, three of your town’s teams had made it to the national tournament, beating out the arguably stronger teams of Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa. Because of this, you (and everyone else in the community that weren’t part of the training teams) had to gather as many resources as possible to award the winning communities in their respective fields at the end of the tournament. 

Everything hurts your brain nowadays. This time of the year was a drag. Despite being happy about your pack’s success, you desperately wished that only one team had succeeded. Now, you had to gather three times more rice than you normally did. 

Sadly, Karasuno never qualified for any of the traditional competitions. Hunting, tracking, and speed wasn’t in high demand for a mostly harvest based group. It was the new age games that Karasuno managed to succeed in. Soccer -just like every year-, Tennis, and Volleyball. The latter two were the surprising wins.

“(L/N), do you want a hand with that?” Yoshida was in his final year of participating in these games but as a member of the pack’s soccer team, the two of you had gotten to know each other over years of competition.

You gladly handed over the large wicker basket that held the harvested paddies, “Thanks.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you this year, don’t you?” the dark-haired player asked rhetorically.

You sighed, “I still have to mill every grain,” you sniffed, “You know what, give that back.”

“Huh? Why?” he asked, handing the large basket back.

“Oujiyama.”

Without warning, besides the brief name you had given, the tennis captain railed into the side of the soccer player, tackling him down. The large wolf easily shifted into his normal form, laughing at the startled man below him. Yoshida growled, easily retaliating and turned the quaffed hair of Oujiyama into a bird’s nest. Bouncing the wicker basket in your arms, you sighed and left the two competing wolves to wrestle in the dirt.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you two were alpha’s fighting for a mate’s attention.”

Oujiyama was the first to recover from the tussle on the ground, brushing off the dirt from his shoulders, “I am an alpha!”

Yoshida, a beta, took the comment as a compliment. He started skipping to catch up to you.

“Maybe, but I know better. Your guys’ egos are just massive.”

Yoshida stopped skipping and swiped the basket from you with a pout.

The three of you travelled to the outer edge of Karasuno’s community, where a small truck was parked. Yoshida dropped the basket in the back along with all of the other containers of food and draped the tarp over it all. 

“Are you guys heading in early?”

Nodding, you tied the blue tarp down to the edges of the truck. “Ya, we have to finish preparing the rice and help set everything up before all the packs show up.” You let out a whining breath, “It’s too much work. Luckily others from other packs will be there to help and the teams that are already in Tokyo will be helping too.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

With the help of some of the other paddy workers across Tokyo, you managed to mill all of the rice that had been brought in three days. Those days were spent waking up before the hunters came back from their treks at dawn, and working on your knees until long after the sun had set. Now your muscles hurt, your nose was stuffed and you desperately wanted some tea.

Stupid sniffer.

“(Y/N), you’re off work right? Can you go to the sport competition sites and bring some of these towels?”

“Huh? Oh sure,” you held out your arms to carry the stack of soft materials. “Which ones should I go to?”

The suit-clad woman checked the list in her hand before pointing behind you. 

“If you walk south you can take a circular route from the wolf and human sprint courses, through the tennis courts and basketball gyms to end up at the volleyball gym. The Tokyo teams are practicing and all of the other packs are expected to arrive later this evening, make sure that there are enough. Oh, those too,” she pointed to a towel filled cart.

Your brain felt numb again. You laughed pitifully as the woman walked away, watching as she yelled at a few brawling wolves on the path. Dropping the towels onto the rolling cart to your side, you began pushing the large weight in the direction of the tracks. You desperately wanted to smell the clean cotton but your nose was clogged. A whine escaped you.

Most of the competing players were taking breaks, a lot of the boys had shifted into their wolf forms to lounge in the sun and pant while a majority of the girls decided to stick to the shade and drink water. They both thankfully took the towels you delivered, though a few came close to biting your hand as they did.

While at the tennis court Oujiyama ran up to you, racket held tightly in his mouth whining for you to pour water over his head. You complied but weren’t too happy about it.

It was only when you made it to the volleyball courts where the players had been playing rigorously. You delivered the towels to the girl’s teams before making your way to the boys, who were yelling much louder than you would expect them to.

“Excuse me, sir, I brought some towels.”

The old man looked your way. His arms were tightly crossed over his chest and his eyes seemed to be set in a permanent glare meant for scrutinizing every movement before him.

“Oh, thank you,” he said, flicking his wrist to look at the watch that was hidden under his red sleeve. “I guess it is a good time for a break. Boys!”

All the heads on the court turned your way, including those that were clearly from different packs. The old man looked sent a questioning look in the direction of the other coaches, who gave a positive nod.

“Break!”

Immediately all the players ran in the direction of their water bottles. Some shifted in hopes to get there faster than the others, nearly breaking their bottles in the grip of the wolf jaws, and startling their managers in the process. Some began to line up before you, politely asking for towels to which you responded by gently holding them out or dropping it around furry necks.

“You seem tired,” the last one said in a hushed tone.

You let out a sigh, “I’ve been preparing rice for the winning prizes for the past few days, and now that that’s done I need to help with other preparations before all the packs arrive.”

The boy hummed, taking a sip from his bottle, “do you at least get to have a break to watch the games?”

“Thankfully,” you said as you leaned against the now empty cart, sniffing. “It’s like this every year to an extent but this time we have three groups competing which means three times the work.”

The boy took the space beside you, letting his weight shift the cart slightly. “What pack do you come from?” He asked.

“Karasuno.”

“Ah, do you know Shoyo?”

You shrugged a shoulder, “I’ve never actually spoken to the volleyball team, but I’ve seen them around. I tend to spend most of my time working, so any of the people I talk to are mostly out of convenience.” You thought about Yoshida and Oujiyama for a moment, “Or they just pester me for food.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, sorry.” You dug your shoe into the wooden floor, “So what’s your name any-”

“Hey Kenma.”

“It’s Kozume. That’s Kuroo.”

“Tetsurou.”

The tall black-haired player that had interrupted the boy you were speaking to -Kozume- walked over with his hands placed on his hips. He breathed deeply before letting out an amused huff. Kozume huffed.

“You’re willing to talk to a stranger you just met over your own team? That’s new.”

“The stranger’s name is-”

“(Y/N).”

“That. And unlike the team (Y/N) actually relaxed and not loud.”

“Are you saying that that’s not relaxed?” Kuroo asked, throwing an arm out to gesture back to his teammates.

The boys he was referring to were all sprawled across the floor breathing heavily. One, in particular, was in his wolf form rolled onto his back while holding the squeezable water bottle between his teeth, squishing it, and chugging down the contents that poured out. Kenma pushed off the cart to stand next to Kuroo.

“That’s exhaustion, not relaxation.”

As the two bickered back and forth, you spun around to grab the handle of your cart.

“I’ll just go. I’ll see you two around.”

They paid you no mind, continuing to argue over Kenma’s relationships with his teammates. Despite the topic being focused on the dyed blonde, Kuroo seemed to be the more passionate of the two regarding the topic.

Nodding, you shuffled backwards while chewing your lip. The coaches, having caught your exit, sent you grateful smiles and waves that you returned before scooting yourself out of there.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Meeting your own packs volleyball team was an interesting experience. As soon as the bus doors opened a few of them, in the canine forms, jumped out and began running around the open parking lot. They howled continuously until their captain had to yell them down. You started speaking to Ukai and Takeda, showing them a map of the area.

When the Nekoma volleyball team came to greet them it seemed as though all hell broke loose. Nekomata came to your side, gently taking the map from your hands and began leading the coaches in the right direction.

You began walking behind the older men, silently listening in to their conversation and chiming in wherever there was a turn to be made.

Kozume began to walk alongside you, taking who turned out to be Shoyo with him. How you managed to participate in their conversation was beyond you, but you mentally thanked Kozume’s ability to keep the energetic orange talking for the lack of silence.

When the Karasuno volleyball team managed to get all their bags inside their rooms you sighed happily, now free of work. 

“You should go rest, a lot of the games start tomorrow and you don’t want to miss them.” Kuroo had popped up, startling you slightly.

You turned to face his hunched figure head-on. “I’m mostly planning on watching tennis and soccer games. My friends are playing.”

“Well, using that criteria you should be planning to watch our games too.” Kenma had somehow managed to get away from Shoyo and sneak up behind you. He looked a bit drained but not much more than he normally would.

“Huh?” you sniffed again.

Kuroo smiled cheekily and leaned a bit further down, making it easier to see both of his eyes through the hanging black strands.

“Well, you should come to see us play. Don’t you think, mate?”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•


	23. Ready. Aim. Fire? Pt.2 - Sugawara Koushi & Sawamura Daichi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Gang / Organized Crime  
> Gender Neutral Reader  
> Word Count: 2.4K+
> 
> Disclaimer: contains violent themes and suggestions, gun violence(? Kind of) all of this is fiction and I don’t condone violence...anyways enjoy lol

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Your childhood wasn’t the most ideal. Growing up in the Mafia business, you and Kiyoko didn’t have time to play around or make friends with the other kids in the neighbourhood. In fact, you thought that the other kids were scared of you and your sister. It wasn’t a secret that the both of you were children of a mafia boss and the people who spoke to you either wanted something from you or for small talk so that they wouldn’t be on your “hit list”. 

All of your days were spent with your sister training to eventually take over the Karasuno mafia business. However, there was an unspoken rule, only one of you would become the next leader and the other one would be their first kill. 

It was supposed to be decided when both of you were above 18, but you found out when you were 16. One night you couldn’t sleep and went downstairs for a snack. You heard parents talking and apparently you were in the lead to take over. They tried to prevent it from happening, but it was a family tradition and when they argued against it, it was shot down quickly by your grandfather. Your father was lucky, he was an only child, and that was your parent’s plan too, but from what you heard, you were an accidental baby. 

How could you kill your own sister? The person who you grew up with? Probably the only other person who understood what your life was like. You made a choice. 

You failed every test and trial your trainers gave you. You skipped practice and let your sister win matches between the two of you. However, sometimes people are born with a natural talent for things, drawing, music, and you were born with the talent to be a leader and trained to be a killer. People would listen to you without much persuasion and despite you ruining your weekly tests, it didn’t erase the past ones you did. 

Now it was different, back then, you did them without knowing the price you would have to pay if you won. 

The week before your eighteenth birthday, before they would officially decide, you confronted your parents. 

“I know that one of us is going to die at the end,” you said during dinner. Kiyoko was out doing something, probably getting in extra training with her training buddy Sawamura, using up the one free pass your parents gave you each month to do whatever you wanted. 

Your mother dropped her fork. “(Y/N)...” 

You looked up at them. Your mother’s eyes were already glistening. Sometimes you wondered how she became a part of the family. She was sweet and compassionate, everything you’d expect to not be associated with the Mafia business, a bleeding heart. Your father was a little more ruthless, but you knew that he was loyal, especially to his family. 

“I heard you two talking a couple of years ago,” you continued. “And I tried to not do well with our trainers, but I overheard one of the security guards talking about it and…” 

“You’re the choice my dad wants,” your father said, putting down his fork. 

You nodded. For a while, nobody said anything and all of the food was left untouched. 

“I don’t want my sister to die,” You said. “Pick her.” 

“That….that means you'll die….” Your mother whispered. 

You took her hand. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not,” your father said. 

You sighed. “Is there any other way? Can’t one of us just not take it? Or leave?” 

“It doesn’t work that way,” your father said, looking down. “If they choose you to be the leader, you kill the person you’re competing with. If you don’t, then they would have the next family in line kill them. Either way, one of you dies.” 

“I don’t believe that,” you said. 

The door opened. 

“Is there still dinner?” Kiyoko said, poking her head around the wall towards the dinner table. “Yes! I’m not too late!” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You would have one more day, your birthday, before you left. You would let your mom bake you a cake, your father would force himself the day off and your sister would give you something nice. 

You had it all planned out. After the cake and the meal, you would leave and never come back into Karasuno territory. You already let one of the guards know that you were using your free pass at around 3 am to train, so they wouldn’t suspect anything. Thankfully, it went as designed, except that your mother caught you at the front door. 

“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” 

You smiled at her. “It’s easier this way. I can’t let you know where I’m going. I don’t even know. At least we’ll all survive.” 

Your mother took a step towards you and took you in her arms. “Stay safe? Okay? I mean it.” 

“Of course. You too,” you said, pulling her closer.

Your mother pulled away and reached into her pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. “I saw the way you looked at dinner. It’s all I had in the house.” 

You took the money, put it in your pocket, and leaned over to kiss your mom on the cheek. “I’ll be okay. I love you, mom.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

One month after, you got word of your parent’s death. You moved into Neokma territory and started from there. They didn’t have any deathly family traditions and were more open around the general public. All of the secrecy you learned from your training in Karasuno was useless. They were bonded together by trust instead of loyalty. 

Kuroo told you. He caught wind of what happened and told you over lunch, not knowing that they were your parents. With the news of that, came the new head of the Karasuno clan, Kiyoko. 

All you heard were rumours. Rumours about yourself, how the mystery second child of Karasuno had gone missing, thankfully no one disclosed anything else about you, but the worst ones were about your parents. The rumours of how they died mostly stayed the same: The former leader killed them. 

You couldn’t go to Karasuno territory to see for yourself if it was true, so you asked Kuroo. He did it with hesitation, but did it nonetheless. He came back to you with confirmation that it was true. 

He told you that it had something to do with the mystery daughter leaving and you stopped him before he could tell you the rest. 

You kept your ear out for a little bit after that, making sure that the information that Kuroo gave was correct. 

It was. 

The week after you found out, he became your first unofficial kill. 

Your grandfather. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“Hey!” Kiyoko shouted. 

You turned your head from the one way glass. 

“Good day isn’t it.” 

Kiyoko went up to you and shoved you hard into the glass. “What’s wrong with you? You could have killed Koushi and for what? To look cool? I should kill you myself.” 

“Woah,” Sugawara said, stepping in between you two. “I’m alive thanks to (Y/N).” 

“What?” 

“The person was coming up from behind him,” you said, straightening out your shirt. “He would’ve known something if I said anything. He was close by.” 

“He?” Kiyoko asked. 

You pointed behind you through the one way glass. A man sat in the middle of the room. His hands were tied behind the back and his legs were bound to the chairs. His shirt was stained with dry blood both from his face and the shot you took at his right shoulder. His head hung low, but you could see the bruising and wet blood spots on his face. Kuroo was standing in front of him with a crowbar, leaning it on his shoulder like a baseball player getting ready to bat. 

“You’re torturing him?” Sugawara asked, his voice small. 

“He probably has information,” Kiyoko said. 

You raised your eyebrows. It’s no secret that every clan of mafia has their own way of getting information, most of the time involving inhumane ways to do it too. You knew Karasuno’s way to a T, but you weren’t going to tell anyone that. No one really knew you were originally from Karasuno except for Kiyoko and probably Sawamura if he could put it together. 

“Couldn’t you ask him?” Sugawara suggested. 

“Sure,” you laughed. “And I’ll make him a nice lunch too.” 

Kiyoko looked at her phone. “Koushi, could you go get Daichi? He’s at the garage door facing the back alleyway.” 

“I don’t know where that is...” he said. 

“I’ll go,” you told them, already moving from your spot. 

Kiyoko grabbed your arm. “No,” she told him. “Go ask someone.” 

Sugawara nodded and caught your eye before leaving to find Sawamura.

You glared at her. “Do you only enlist bleeding hearts into Karasuno?” 

“You could’ve hired anyone you wanted if you stayed,” she said, crossing her arms. “But you ran away. Probably like how you handle most things. I wonder what would be the trigger for Neokma.” 

You swallowed. This never came up between the two of you. The first time you saw each other after the night you left was at the monthly Karasuno and Neokma meeting, that time to introduce the new leader of Neokma, you. You saw the moment of shock on her face and then the business face a moment later. 

Lesson #10 you learn in Karasuno, never give your enemies or people you don’t trust any reaction. They don’t deserve it. 

Now, you were the surprised one. You always assumed that your parents or your grandfather, before you killed him, told her the tradition in the change of leadership. Another rule that Karasuno had, things had to go on as normal. Even if the leader died or someone important did, it would be business as usual and that’s exactly how it was when your grandfather died. 

“Do you know how our parents died?” You asked. 

Kiyoko took a hastily step back like she was being shot. She turned to face Kuroo and the man again, actively avoiding your eye contact. “Grandfather said it was a crossfire, but there were no meetings or anything that night. I checked. He wouldn’t let me see them.” 

Kiyoko was in the dark about everything. 

“Kiyoko, I have—” 

“Where’s Koushi with Daichi?” She interrupted. “They should’ve been back by now?” 

Kuroo opened the door and swung the crowbar like it was a golf club. “He wants to talk to you now.” 

“Who?” Kiyoko asked. 

“Both of you.” He opened the door further and gestured both of you into the room. 

He was coughing up blood, his teeth covered in blood as he gave you a smile. “My favourite people are here!” 

You looked at Kiyoko. 

“You know us?” You asked. 

“Of course I know you! You two don’t really look alike though which I think is a shame. If I had a sibling I would want them to look like me.” 

“How vain,” Kiyoko said. 

“You're siblings?” Kuroo asked, furrowing his brow. 

The man coughed. “Right? I couldn’t really believe it at first too.” 

“What do you want?” You sneered. 

“Things were supposed to go quietly,” he rambled, shaking his head. “You should have just let me shoot you and that Sugawara person. It would’ve been one more dead body then asked, but I don't think they would mind.” 

You froze. 

“Who would mind?” Kiyoko demanded. 

Kuroo took a step closer to you. 

“I wonder what you had to do to make them hate you so much,” he laughed. “I didn’t expect you to see me, though. Then BAM! I’m shot and now I’m here.” 

“What are you talking about?” Kuroo said, kicking the man in the leg. The man flinched in pain and started coughing up more blood. 

“I thought we talked about not killing them until they told us something,” you said, glaring at Kruoo. 

“And I listened. I didn’t do anything that would kill him.” 

“I think it’s poison,” Kiyoko said, taking a step closer to him. 

“And we have a winner!” He said laughing. He was shaking a little bit and blood rain down his chin like a river. 

“Poison?” Kuroo asked. “I didn’t do it.” 

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Sometimes when you get sent to do something dangerous that shouldn't take long, people in a mafia will give you a slow acting poison to make sure that if you’re captured you would die before you could say anything.” 

“It’s kind of a pride thing though,” Kiyoko added. “Most leaders don’t implicate it because they believe they train their members well enough that they wouldn’t need the poison, that they would be able to resist it on their own. It’s also risky. Everyone reacts to different poisons so they might die before they even get a chance to do it.” 

Your blood went cold and you took a step back. 

“(Y/N)?” Kuroo asked. 

“That person’s got it…” The man chuckled and then slumped into the chair. 

You looked over to Kiyoko with wide eyes. “Aoba Johsai uses it.” 

Kiyoko stopped and then rushed out. You followed quickly after her. You knew the one place that she was thinking of. 

The door to the garage alleyway was wide opened by the time the three of you got there. The Karasuno car had the driver's seat door opened and droplets of blood on the floor. 

On the hood of the car were words spray painted a light teal: _Let the games begin._

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my one shot is late again….what's new? Sorry about that!!!  
> The next part of this is probably going to be long so wait for that please!! 
> 
> One thing I kind of regret though is that it’s not really a romantic x reader? Like it’s not really heavy on Daichi x reader x Sugawara? Sorry about that :( I’ll try my best for the next one!! 
> 
> I think the dynamic I was going for was that they remind the reader of their mom who was like that ( a bleeding heart in the gang business) and has grown attached to them in that way? 
> 
> Anyways...I hope that you enjoyed it!! - Kiwi


	24. Catch Me If You Can - Nishinoya Yuu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Penpal / Travel  
> Warning: Manga Spoilers  
> Word Count: 7.6k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

How could he not have fallen in love with (Y/N) back then? The foreign transfer student that regaled stories of her adventures around the world with swinging arm movements and an indistinguishable accent that had been muddled over years of travel. She was a sun among stars. A linguistic animal lover that had a passion for learning and adventure. No one could resist her charm, not for long. She was expressive, loud and boisterous. But when given the chance, the outgoing girl will always sit quietly and listen with a kind smile on her face. How could anyone not want to know her?

It was nearing the end of March in 2014 when they last saw each other. Despite it being the beginning of spring, the sun was shooting down warm golden rays of light that (Y/N) happily bathed in. Nishinoya sat next to the excitable girl, looking at the various pins she had stuck into her worn down and faded hat, tired after years of travelling and use. It was spunky, out there, it suited her quite well. In her hand, she fiddled with a keychain that he had just given her moments prior. A small enamel volleyball that he had a duplicate of.

“I’m going to travel the world,” she said, leaning back against the stairs of the gym.

The graduation ceremony was long. Despite that, the volleyball team had gathered in their gym to send off the 3rd years, announcing Yamaguchi as the new captain, and making everyone cry. The 1st years were the worst, only getting to spend one year with their beloved elders.

Nishinoya smiled, stretching his legs along the steps to lay down beside her. “Where are you going to go first?”

She hummed, “I think I’ll go to Australia, I want the accent back.”

Nishinoya laughed and watched as the traveller held up the chain to her nose.

“I want to meet as many people as I can, get some new experiences,” she sighed before shooting up from her spot, nearly launching herself on top of Nishinoya’s relaxed position. Her eyes seemed to be twinkling as they looked into his, “I’m going to write you letters.”

How could he say no to that smile?

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

For three years they sent letters back and forth. Occasionally sending a care package, typically coming from (Y/N), who always seemed to have money to spare for the best quality of shipping. Nishinoya was always eager to open her letters. The words on the page would dance in his mind, creating beautiful images of the girl he remembered as she continued her travels. He would feel his heart squeeze with every package, carrying various treats and pictures for him to enjoy. Nishinoya always wanted to travel despite never having the funds to do so. Because of this, he lived vicariously through his long time crush’s adventures, holding every gift he received close to his heart.

He saved every last picture, letter, and gift. Yearning for when he would find the next one sitting snugly in the mailbox of his family home in Miyagi. 3 years since the day they graduated they had been exchanging letters, and 4 months since he last heard from his (Y/N), who had suddenly stopped. 4 months he waited. 

Nishinoya waited desperately for her next reply, but it never came. Leaving him anxious for months as his family tried to calm him down. Nothing worked. Nishinoya spent most of his free time walled up in his room, ducked under the covers of his childhood bed, waiting.

It wasn’t until his grandfather, Mineo, knocked on his door that something happened.

It was the 2nd of July 2017 at 3:28pm.

“Eh, Yuu, there’s something in the mail for ya,” the old man teased, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.

Running out of his room, nearly knocking over his laughing elderly grandfather, the youngest Nishinoya ran out of his house, through the gates and to the mailbox. From the corner of his eye, he could see the mailman down the street. Inside the box was a neatly packaged envelope. He pulled it out gently, trying his best not to fold or mark the clean paper.

Once at the dinner table, family surrounding all sides, excitedly waiting for the boy to open the letter, Nishinoya let out a deep breath. His heart was pounding, gripping onto his ribcage like a prisoner wanting to escape. His hands shook, making the paper let out a desperate fluttering sound. He read the front of the paper.

The letter was sent from Australia. Particularly a city named Mutitjulu, which he didn’t bother to try and pronounce as even in his head, the English word seemed to only be a muffle of sounds. English wasn’t something he was good at anyway. He continued, staring at his name that was scripted on the front in a familiar style. One that he’s been reading for years.

“Well, what are you waiting for Yuu? Open it,” his mother pressured. She was excited too, tired of her son’s heaving and hawing over the past four months.

Taking in another wavering breath, Yuu opened the envelope gently and pulled out the crisp piece of paper. As he opened it, a wad of cash fell out, sprawling across the table his family sat at.

His grandfather laughed, “What is this? Some sort of ransom?”

“You’re not given money when you get a ransom note, let Yuu read the letter first,” His father chuckled as he watched his wife gather the money in a neat stack also grabbing the stiff paper ticket that had landed before her.

The first thing on the page was the date, followed by (Y/N)’s handwriting.

_14 August 2014_

_Dear Yuu,_

_Australia feels like a home I wasn’t born into. It’s hot and my hair hate’s the humidity, but it’s a beautiful country. The accent makes it all worth it. While writing this, I sit at the bottom of one of Australia’s many sites, Uluru, a giant rock that would make you look like a worm in comparison. There are flies everywhere, and we’re painting stones in dotted patterns. I painted a lizard._

_I’ve spent the last week in the outback with a group of born Australian’s working with Kangaroos. They are the funniest creatures, easily aggravated in the wild, but these ones have become used to humans over the years._

_A man named Joshua has become my companion for the week. He’s taught me a lot, I can’t say it all in a singular letter, but here’s a funny story. One kangaroo, lovingly named Swipe, stole his hat on a particularly hot day, hiding it somewhere we never found. I had to give him my hat. When you see him, please, ask for it back, I miss it and will have more pins to add later._

_Oh right, the money and the ticket. Well, I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I wanted it to be a surprise. By the time you get this letter, it should be about mid-summer of 2017. You know how you’ve always wanted to travel the world? Well, I’m picking out your stops. You won’t be able to contact me, that eliminates the fun out of it. But, that’s your mission._

_Come and catch me~_

_Love,_

_(Y/N)_

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Nishinoya had to give it to her, Kangaroos were soft. And even in the heat of the Australian winter, he desperately wanted to snuggle up to them and bury his head into their chests. He had jokingly told Joshua that he wanted to be a joey in his next life, to which the Australian born man laughed and slapped his back. 

It seemed as though, despite (Y/N)’s appearance in Mutitjulu having been 3 years prior to his arrival, that she had planned out his whole trip. Getting Joshua to walk him through every landmark and location in Australia that she had visited on her solo trip.

He was a tall man, tanned to a golden ochre colour from his days working under the blistering sun, and you could tell he did hard physical labour from his well built physique. Nishinoya would stare at him occasionally, mostly jealous of his overwhelming height.

The two men were visiting the Sydney Zoo, watching a gigantic alligator eat a whole chicken when Nishinoya asked the older man a question in broken English. He still needed practice.

“Did you help plan everything?” he asked referring to his tour around the continent.

The Aussie shook his head, making his messed up sandy coloured hair bounce. Turning away from the reptilian show, the tanned man looked at Nishinoya with a large smile.

“She did it all herself. Every last detail. You wouldn’t believe it when she told me her plan, she was going to burst!”

Leaving their suitcases at various hotels over the 3 month period and grabbing the bare minimum so they could trek through the day felt new to Nishinoya. He had spent his whole life in one location, only ever needing to carry around a bag or two wherever he went. Joshua carried around a leather satchel everywhere. At every location they stopped at he would reach into it and pull out a photo that (Y/N) had taken while there, handing over to Nishinoya. 

“Keep it, I’ve made copies,” he said when Nishinoya tried to give them back.

Noya bought a photo album after that, carefully storing the photos in the slots that were available. He would flip through the pages until late when the birds started singing. The late nights staring at your photos led to beautiful dreams of hiking through forests and petting koalas together, holding hands and watching the sunset. He wanted that. Minus the gigantic spiders. 

It was at the end of September when Joshua barged into Nishinoya’s room early in the morning and threw something at him.

“Oi! Get up, get packed. You got more than just a plane to catch.”

Noya, still tired from a long night of drinking — likely being Joshua’s way of sending him off — groggily grabbed at whatever had been bounced off his head. He rubbed his eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the light that Joshua had so graciously invited in beyond the curtains.

Groaning, Yuu turned his attention away from the bright sun and onto what laid in his hand. A familiar hat, worn out and covered with pins, it’s original colour faded into a dull grey. Next to it, a letter. His spine shot into a straight position as his fingers gently separated the lip of the envelope from its body as quickly as possible. Just like the one before, money, plane ticket and a letter. A noise in the corner of the room caught his attention, Joshua was stuffing Noya’s clothes haphazardly into his suitcases, throwing a change of clothes to the side for him to wear.

“Get changed Cobber, we got to go!”

Joshua steered the tourist onto his plane, not letting Noya take a detailed look at the ticket. At the gate to the airport, Nishinoya was pulled into a strong hug by the Aussie, who rambled into the shorter man’s ear about how he would miss his foreign wisdom and poorly constructed sentences (which had improved over the months).

Before he knew it, Nishinoya was on a plane, reading the note you had sent back for him.

_21 February 2015_

_Dear Yuu,_

_You like dogs, right? Well, I sure hope you do. I’ve spent the last few weeks in Yukon, Canada (specifically Whitehorse) and HOLY! It is freezing up here in the wintertime. Luckily the group I’ve been working with provides the proper gear you need but still, it’s frigid. So be ready for that. Margaret will help you out. That’s not actually her name, but she says her real name is too hard for us to pronounce._

_Anyway, dog sledding. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried it. It’s such a freeing feeling. Oh, and I might have given one of them the keychain you gave me. I’m sorry, but he was so sweet and I wanted to give him something of mine. His name is Mateus. Be sure to give him pets for me!_

_Make sure to spend that money well~_

_Love you,_

_(Y/N)_

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Although October wasn’t technically winter, the northern hemisphere was cold, too cold. Bundled up in thick layers, covered from head to toe, Nishinoya laid back in the tall snow, rubbing the bellies of eager huskies that rolled around next to him. Yuu laughed and one jumped at him, pushing his shoulder back into the snow and licking any visible skin he could reach.

“Ya! Mateus, please!” The dog backed off, sitting in the man’s lap, panting happily.

Nishinoya sat up, petting the friendly dog’s head with his thick glove. His other hand moved the collar so he could admire the given jewelry. The metal had oxidized, making it look brown and blue. The volleyball has definitely looked better but Nishinoya wouldn’t complain. The dog whimpered at his new human friend as he played with the chain. 

Noya looked the husky in the eyes, “Awe, I miss her too bud.” 

The dog whined again and pushed his head up against Noya’s hand. He obliged to the canines request, rubbing the space behind his ears. The dog lolled his head to the side, then let his body completely fall over Noya’s lap. The other’s came closer, joining the lazy dog puddle that made itself home around their new companion.

“If you keep letting them do that they’ll never let you leave.”

Margaret was a kind woman, older and a bit worn after years of working. She was ruff around the edges but as soon as she got a good look at Noya’s photo album (which now also held (Y/N)’s letters) she swept the young man into a bone-crushing hug, telling him about the memories she had from years prior. Noya listened to every story earnestly.

“She’s a natural,” she said. “Hopped onto the sled, grabbed the reins and off she went! Over the hills through the trees and the wolves listened to her every command.” 

Margaret’s movements were a shadow of the girl he remembered. Large and unapologetic. He took a sip from his hot chocolate as he watched the woman’s arms wing in fluid motions. The fire that was lit next to them cast a shadow behind her, like a puppet. Other volunteers around the lodge watched in awe as she continued telling her of (Y/N). Just how did she manage to make everyone fall in love with her, would there be any room in her heart for him? Everywhere she went she seemed to take someone with her and Yuu couldn’t help but think he’d be left out. It nagged at him.

On the last day of his stay in Whitehorse, Margaret sat down next to Nishinoya and handed him a neatly wrapped pile.

“You know, I sometimes wondered why (Y/N) asked me to make duplicates of her photos. But after spending these past couple of months with you, I can understand it. You’ve got yourself a keeper.”

At the bottom of the pile of photos was the letter, sent back to Margaret from his next location. The woman patted his shoulder.

“You better pack up soon, I’ll drive you to the airport.”

_3 September 2015_

_Dear Yuu,_

_I know the cold must have been ruff. Haha, get it? Ruff? Well, don’t worry, cause where you’re going next it’s all summer and sun (with the occasional thunderstorm but a little rain never hurt anybody)._

_The Florida keys are hot. I’ve been spending a lot of time either at the beach or indoors where it’s airconditioned, but It’s been a lot of fun relaxing in the sun here. I found a restaurant, tucked in behind the white fences of a narrow road just by the waterfront. It has a large sign saying “CASTAWAY” I think it’s fitting with the whole nautical theme. It has high ceilings and gives off a wood cabin by the lake sort of feel. All the workers are nice, I’m writing this while talking with them._

_I recommend the honeybuns!_

_Love,_

_(Y/N)_

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The honey buns were delicious. They weren’t even something you had to order, but Nishinoya did anyway, every single time. Joe, the owner, along with his wife busted the bar table that Nishinoya sat at. He was the only one in there at the moment flipping through his photo album, adjusting all the photos in place, making them look orderly. Without looking, he reached for one of the many bread buns that sat in the woven basket next to him.

“You know Noya, there’s more food other than the honey buns,” Joe chuckled as he snatched the bun filled basket out of the grasp of Noya’s clingy hands, making said boy pout. Joe laughed again before slipping a laminated piece of paper his way, “Read the menu kid, you might find something worthwhile.”

Joe, despite his outward appearance being that of a beer drinking food lover (which he was), was an avid deep sea diver. Often going with Miranda to collect underwater treasures that could be used as decor for their restaurant.

Nishinoya nodded, thanking the kind man as he began to read. The words gave him a bit of a headache. English, definitely something he’s improved on since beginning his journey but still makes him run circles in his head. He rested his chin on the counter, squinting, hoping the change in sight would magically turn the English into Japanese. It did not, and after 5 minutes of continuous grumbling, Miranda came his way.

“Noya, sweetheart, take a look at the drinks would ya?” she laughed, towel and plate in one hand, flicking the back of the page with a long spindly finger from the other.

He flipped the page over.

_The (Y/N) Special_

“What is this?” he asked pointing to the only spot on the page that had kanji characters mixed in with the English alphabet.

Miranda smiled, leaning her elbows onto the counter. Flicking a chummy finger toward the page she explained, “That right there, is a drink (Y/N) made up on one of the nights she was here. She jumped over the counter and made us all one, then gave us the recipe for later.”

Joe came their way with a cheeky smile, “Give it a go. It’s got a bit of alcohol in it but not a lot, fine for a midday drink.”

Yuu gladly took the drink created and named after his beloved adventurer and gave it a big gulp. It was cold and sweet with a bit of lemon, perfect for the everlasting hot weather in Florida. He could imagine lounging at the beach or by a pool with (Y/N) sleeping peacefully by his side as he drank this, both of them soaking in the sun’s warmth. Noya sighed happily, resting his head in the palm of his hand.

“Hang in there kid. I don’t think there’s that much alcohol,” Joe teased as he flicked Nishinoya’s forehead. “Don’t go dozing off just yet, we’ve got your next letter.”

Noya didn’t even realize that Miranda had left, only just seeing her as she came back out from the restaurant’s back with a box in hand.

The pictures were of her in various places, just like all the others. Now mostly at the beach or at his current location. He didn’t hold himself back from admiring the images of your summer glow as you posed happily for the camera in your bathing suit. One image of your face stuffed with honey buns make him cackle outright. At the bottom of the box was a small corral and your note. 

_18 June 2016_

_Dear Yuu,_

_Oh YUU~ please don’t be mad at me! I know you probably wanted to see me first out of all our friends but I couldn’t help myself. Brazil was already on my list and where else would I go besides Rio de Janeiro?_

_Hinata has grown so much since high school, you’ve got to see him play. You should be proud of your Kohai, he’s gotten pretty amazing~ His roommate, Pedro, was really nice too he likes OnePiece and Spiral Knights. Reminds me of Kenma a bit. They were both kind enough to accommodate me for my stay. Oh, Oikawa showed up too._

_Be sure to give Hinata a hug for me~_

_Love (Oh so very much),_

_(Y/N)_

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Had they still been in high school, Hinata would’ve probably blabbered about everything upon Nishinoya’s arrival. But, as you had said, Hinata had grown and thus, he learned some restraint. Managing to respect the wishes of his travelling upperclassman who insisted that he kept a tight lip about everything until Noya had begun his travels in Rio.

Noya, on the other hand, was rather discouraged that his past teammate had gotten to spend months with his girl. His girl? His girl. He grumbled, crossing his arms with a haughty huff.

Nishinoya had arrived in Rio in February of 2018, getting the chance to hear all of Hinata’s stories from the beginning of his appearance in the hot city. Heitor, Hinata’s teammate for a tournament they played a couple of months prior, listened carefully to Hinata’s ramblings as he switched back and forth between languages, translating as much as he could. Nishinoya also often found himself admiring Heitor’s coiling hair. A complete opposite texture from his own. (Y/N)’s appearance seemed to be news to Brazilian man as well, but both listened with rapt attention as the carrot head rambled. 

Noya got really pouty when his friend showed him the pictures though, mostly fixating on the one that had Oikawa, Hinata, and (Y/N) all making strange faces at the camera.

“Shoyo, must you torture me like this?”

Hinata only responded with a large smile and wiggling dance.

Heitor and Pedro had become Nishinoya’s closest companions after Hinata left for Japan. Nice, Heitor’s newlywed wife, reminded him of Saeko, making her his go-to whenever he needed to rant to someone. She never understood a word he said, but would always give him a pat on the back and a warm smile. Luckily, Pedro had managed to pick up some Japanese during his time living with Hinata, making the learning curve of figuring out Portuguese a little easier.

At the near 3 month mark of his stay in Rio, Pedro came out of his room with a box that had Nishinoya’s name printed across it. “It. Yours,” he tried to say with heavily accented Japanese, which the streaked blonde man was thankful for.

The name across the top had obviously been done by Hinata, the messy script made it that evident, not that Noya could easily read it anyways. Just like the others, the box held a few remaining photos that Hinata didn’t give him during their time together and her letter. The envelope had a small crease in the top corner, likely from Hinata’s rough handling, but he was eager to read it despite its mediocre condition.

Pedro sat down next to Nishinoya, taking hold of the photo album, and offered to put them in order. Before he did though, he took his time flipping through the pages, listening to Nishinoya as he tried to explain what was happening in each photograph. Pedro smiled.

“I spoke to her quite often, she learned Portuguese rather quickly, I was surprised,” he paused for a moment, watching the memory that played in his mind from the photo he had taken of you and Hinata playing volleyball on the beach. “She is quite an amazing person.”

Despite not being able to fully understand what Pedro had said, Nishinoya could hear his feelings.

Why did she have to be so magnetic that even a near stranger felt her gravitational pull?

With an almost sad sigh, he gave Pedro a nudge and began to read the letter. It was filled with glitter. That was new.

_31 December 2016_

_Dear Yuu,_

_HAPPY NEW YEAR! I might be a bit tipsy but that’s okay! I’ll write this anyway._

_New years in France is filled with alcohol. I shouldn’t be surprised but the wine is surprisingly sweet? And you know me, I can’t restrain myself when it comes to sweets._

_Paris is beautiful by the way. I can’t wait for you to see it. Danon has been an amazing tour guild. He even gives me a discount on the coffee from his family’s café. Despite being in the more expensive part of town the café is rather quaint. When his parents are out Donon lets me choose the music, it’s typically 70’s dance and pop music, like ABBA. Who am I kidding, It’s mostly ABBA. Sometimes other customers join me in dancing, Danon can’t because he works but I see him grooving behind the counter. I think I made it a tradition._

_Ooh, I also made another friend, her name’s Brielle, she's just lovely._

_It’s beautiful here Yuu~_

_Love you loads._

_(Y/N)_

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Was Nishinoya jealous when he met Danon? HELL YES HE WAS. The man was their age, and undeniably handsome, clean quaffed brown hair and perfect skin. Nishinoya spent his first few days in Paris giving the other man the side-eye. 

That’s how it was, until one Friday evening, when Nishinoya walked into the café he was stopped frozen at the door.

“Ah Noya, my friend! Come join us!” Danon called over the music once he saw the shorter man enter.

In the Frenchman’s arms twirled a beautiful young woman with dark skin and braided hair that swung at the middle of her back. ABBA was playing, Noya noticed as he entered, weaving through the dancing couples of men and women alike. Danon and the woman met him halfway, and Danon, being the gentleman he is, bowed slightly as he gestured to her.

“This is Brielle. I’m sure (Y/N) must have mentioned her in her letter.”

Brielle laughed, waving her hand dismissively, “The two of us only got a moment together, a week at most. But she did talk about you Nishinoya. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

They spoke in English, with French accents, but Noya was thankful for the familiarity, although it did make him notice his own mangled accent even more.

“So what’s happening here?”

Danon laughed, “It’s (Y/N)’s night! What else?!”

The day slowly turned to night and the Eiffel tower began to glow outside the window. Nishinoya tried his best to dance in the sensual duets that took place in the middle of the floor, but more often than not, he went behind the counter, taking Danon’s parent’s place and giving them a chance to take centre stage. Out of the pairs, his parents were the most infectious. But anyone could look Danon’s way and see that he and Brielle were a match made for the night lights of Paris.

Towards the end of May, Nishinoya sat at one of the tables next to the chalk wall, sipping slowly at his tea. Danon came out from the back, giving his mother a rub on the shoulder before sitting across from the Japanese tourist. He placed a clean stack of images on the table between them. Before pointing to the chalk wall with a melancholic smile.

“She wrote you a message up there, ‘see you soon’, she said that a lot about you,” the taller man slid over the stack.

Noya slowly flipped through the photos, pausing at one that captured a moment of Danon holding (Y/N) in his arms as they danced, being perfectly framed by the Eiffel tower behind them. Noya gripped the photo a little tighter. His heart clawed at his insides again. That nagging feeling was back, making the palms of his hands feel sore and warm. Danon’s voice pulled him out of it easily, the man was a siren.

“She is a remarkable woman. If I had the same opportunity that you have right now,” he trailed off, pausing to take a breath, “I would follow her off the edge of the world if she asked me,” Danon took the photo out of Noya’s hands, giving it a fleeting look before tucking it into the album that rested open on the table.

Gulping, Noya met the man’s eyes across the table.

“Aren’t you with Brielle?”

Danon smiled, “I am. (Y/N) introduced us. Brielle knows of my infatuation but trusts me and I can’t thank her more for it.”

“You two are beautiful together,” Noya said, looking up at your name on the wall. He took another long, slow sip of his tea.

“As will the both of you. If you manage to catch her that is.” Danon spoke softly, joining his new friend in staring at their crush’s smooth writing on the wall. “Can you do me a favour, Noya?”

Nishinoya hummed, continuing to look up.

“Love her for the both of us, okay?”

_8 May 2017_

_Dear Yuu,_

_A kind old man was nice enough to let me spend most of my time with him and his dog at their home in Hamburg, Germany. He’s a potato farmer! But sadly he injured his back working, what a spine breaker. Anyway, I offered my help farming in exchange for a warm bed and food. He was happy to help! Oh right, his name is Adal. He’s a bit of a grouch but I know he’s secretly a softy._

_I managed to get to a few places around Germany before settling down there for the rest of the trip though. My favourite by far is the torn down Berlin wall. It’s covered in graffiti and art and it’s just filled with so much history. It’s overwhelming but seeing the broken wall is just such a beautiful sight. I don’t even think I can put it into words._

_Don’t let Adal be too mean to you~_

_Love,_

_(Y/N)_

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Nishinoya knew what you meant by the wall being overwhelming. It felt like he had the memories of generations pushing down on his shoulders all while a swell of happiness and relief seemed to lift his chest upwards. It was a sight to behold.

Adelina was a kind but blunt woman in her 40’s. Their initial interaction was a shocking one that left a bitter taste in both of their mouths. Noya, a stranger that had shown up at Adal’s doorstep that was in the middle of vast farmland was greeted with a less than welcoming hello.

“Is Adal here?”

In broken English, Adelina responded, “Adal is dead. What do you want?”

After explaining his now new predicament to the resilient woman, she had broken into a gasp eyes wide as she rushed up the stairs of the house. She nearly tripped coming back down, holding a box that was covered in dust and set it down on the wood table in the middle of the large room visible from the door.

She had sighed while she blew off the dirt, “You must be Nishinoya, correct?”

Taking his shoes off at the door, he entered the premises. Adelina had gestured for him to take a seat in the chair across from her and the box. Nishinoya was understandably nervous at the time, desperately wanting to bite his nail or crack his cold knuckles, but he resisted.

“Adal was my father, he died last year and left everything to me,” she started. “I only met (Y/N) once but she was a kind woman from what I remember. Managed to break that old man’s shell. Not many can do that,” she laughed, tucking a greying piece of hair behind her ear.

Nishinoya listened to every word patiently. Adelina wasn’t a great storyteller, she often had to cycle back, remembering events that would have been told earlier on, and sounded rather monotone as she recounted them. For what it was worth though, once she got on the right track, she seemed to be able to recall every detail word for word despite the stories not having been from her own experiences.

“I know the plan was for you to work in the field, but I sold off the farmland not too long after he died,” she said, placing a glass of water for him on the table. “If I had thought a little further ahead, I probably would have waited until after your visit,” she scoffed sadly at herself. “I guess my mind was a bit preoccupied.”

“No, no. It’s alright. I’m the one showing up unannounced. You probably didn’t even remember the plan until I showed up.”

That night, Adeline offered to take Nishinoya on a grand tour through Germany.

“I should at least fulfill some duty that I was given, he would want me to,” she said, giving him a rare smile. “Diese Dinge passieren, und das Leben geht weiter.”

Despite having given him most of the pictures in the box on the first night, the letter remained untouched until after spending three months in the woman’s care. At the airport, Adeline thanked Noya for visiting and wished him well.

“Chase your dreams,” she said, sending him off with a final wave.

_1 September 2017_

_Dear Yuu,_

_Somehow a little town at Italy’s ankle has made me believe that gods exist on earth. Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but these architects did an amazing job. The buildings are all colourful and beautiful to admire. Especially during the sunset. The whole town is cast with a warm glow._

_I’ve been staying in Sorrento, (imagine if I was writing this from Torino! Haha). A small town by the bay known for its beautiful view of the water and 14th-Century architecture, very picturesque. I spend most of my time down by the bay, I’ve gone so often that I’ve even made friends with some of the fishermen. They even offered to take me spearfishing out in the bay. Their boats are beautiful but on windy days I definitely prefer the land._

_Don’t let the marlins get to close, they’ll stab you~_

_Love you,_

_(Y/N)_

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Eh, Noya! You did great! Let me take a photo for you.” 

Donte was a middle-aged man that owned a boat by the pier. Often spending his weekends fishing for marlins to feed his family the following week. His hair was dark brown and mousy, slowly fading to grey at the sides of his hairline that trailed down his jaw into a patchy scruff of a beard that never seemed to grow. Quickly, the ageing man grabbed Noya’s phone off one of the seats in his large fishing boat and angled it to face the other man.

“Say: sorridi!” he cheered.

Noya dropped his borrowed trident like a spear on the tiled concrete and kicked up his left leg onto the large metal cleat at his side and balanced the weight of the large marlin between his arms. The fish’s mouth hung open, but Noya smiled into the camera of his phone, yelling out ‘sorridi’ as the photo was taken. 

“Ah good. C’mon, I’ll treat you to lunch.”

It was during lunch when Donte began to entertain Nishinoya with some stories of (Y/N)’s visit. The big one was how we decided on the name of his boat. He explained that at the time, his ship was brand new when she visited, with (Y/N) being the first to book a time to experience marlin fishing on the new vessel. At the time the name hadn’t been printed on the side, and when Donte had mistakenly tripped over a loose line it sent him into the cold water of the bay. Despite being able to swim, the visiting woman had immediately pulled out the rope ladder tying to the side of the ship and dived him.

Donte laughed as he recalled floating in the water with (Y/N) staring at him with an irritated expression. “I can swim you know?” he said, making her grumble and paddle to the ladder she had set up moments prior.

“The water is nice, but you better get out soon,” she had teased. “Don’t want the marlins to attack.”

“Thought that ‘the Mad Mer’ was fitting. She did look like a goddess while swimming after all.” 

The description made Noya smile happily.

Donte was starting his next story when Nishinoya felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Asahi had sent him a message.

_We’re all meeting up today._

_Are you coming?_

A cheeky grin pulled on the corner of Noya’s face. Swiping his phone across his screen and clicking, without sending a word to his friend the image was sent.

_Woah, Noya!_

_Are you still following those letters?_

Nishinoya chuckled.

_You bet!_

Donte nodded his head in Noya’s direction and took a large gulp of water and a bit of food from his plate. “Who you talking to?”

“Ah, an old friend. Sent him the picture of the marlin.”

On his final day, after packing up all his clothes, Nishinoya flipped through the new photos he collected. His favourite had been taken on the same day that she had dived into the water to help Donte. It was of (Y/N) in a flowing white dress, arms spread wide open, with the sun setting in the background making her dress glow. This photo closed out the passage of Sorrento, Italy.

_30 March 2018_

_Dear Yuu,_

_Hazyview is quite the sight. It’s full of green trees and large expanses of grass. Rolling hills turn into mountains with sharp cliffs and rounded tops. It’s a sight you’ve never seen before._

_I got to travel around a bit before settling in Hazyview so I could learn about all the languages they speak. It’s so interesting! I swear some of the people I met probably thought I was some foreign nut job, but I had fun_

_Working at a sanctuary for elephants is such a rewarding experience. I wish I could have stayed a bit longer to help. Luckily they primarily used English to communicate because of all the immigrating volunteers they get, but even the diverse collection of language there was amazing. But that’s not the point. Elephants. Elephants are the point._

_We managed to save a baby and his mother from poachers! The little guy was rather clingy, and I got to name him!_

_Work your hardest~_

_Love,_

_(Y/N)_

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Nishinoya was relieved when he was able to practice his English again with fluent English speakers at the sanctuary. Nearly two years of practice has shown some improvement. 

Jabulani was the man that greeted him when the helicopter landed at the sanctuary. His arms were wide open and his smile was big, showing off his pearly white teeth.

“Welcome!” he yelled over the sound of the helicopter’s blades spinning.

It took a couple of days for Nishinoya to get the chance to interact with the large beasts. That time was spent settling in, getting a tour, and learning about the protocol that was held in high regard at the sanctuary (for good reason).

When Jabulani, nicknamed Jabu, introduced Noya to the various elephants that were being rehabilitated he was brought to a pause at one.

“His name is Shino?”

“Ah yes. You’re (Y/N)’s friend. I almost forgot. She talked about you a lot.”

Noya made a large gesture with his arms, throwing them in the warm air. Then he adjusted the old button filled hat on his head to block the sun.

“When (Y/N) said she named a baby Elephant I thought I was going to be small! She named it after me, and he’s that big?!”

Jabu laughed at Noya’s pain. Giving a hard smack on the back. Earning a groan from the slightly saddened man.

“Don’t look at it like that. Think of it this way,” He said as he grabbed Noya’s shoulder, straightening his back. He gestured to the elephant’s trunk that started sprinkling water over its head. “She must think highly of you. Think you can reach great heights like the trunk of an elephant.”

“That height is mediocre when giraffes exist.”

The throwaway comment earned Noya another hard smack.

“Don’t say that around the elephants. They’re sensitive creatures.”

Occasionally, at night when everyone was lounging around the common area, eating food and relaxing, Nishinoya got the chance to listen to Juba and his friends speak in their native tongue. Zulu was something he had never heard prior to coming here, and as he listened to them converse fluidly without tripping over any syllable or sound he couldn’t help but realize why you appreciated the complexities of language so much.

The last letter was short, and when he opened it a picture slipped out. You wore Karasuno’s classic colour; black. You were in a waving salute, your two fingers in the motion of pointing away from your forehead. The back of the black tracksuit was visible thanks to your slightly turned position. You stood on the steps of the volleyball gym, the doors were open. The letter was sent back to Hazyview recently.

_9 April 2019_

_Dear Yuu,_

_What do you think? The newest job suits me, huh? I managed to race through school while I waited. World Cultures, I’m excited._

_See you on the first day of school~_

_Love,_

_(Y/N)_

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

April 20th of 2019 was the first day of school. Nishinoya had flown in from Hazyview the night before, greeted by his parents who pestered him about all of his adventures on the way home. Still wide awake with jitters of excitement, Noya rambled about every moment and story, flipping through his nearly complete photo album.

He was wide awake until he wasn’t. Despite his eagerness to wake up early to the following day and hopefully ambush you in the morning before classes started, he managed to sleep through most of the day. When he finally did wake up he was groggy from the jet lag but forced himself to change into something more presentable than plane clothes. Be grabbed your old hat, oxidized keychain and his photo album before rushing out.

Once he got to the front gates he breathed in deeply. It had been years, and the nagging feeling had returned to his chest. Students gave him weird looks as they left the school grounds.

How could he not have fallen in love with you back then? But how could he be so naive to believe he was the only one? He thought of Danon in that moment, letting the words replay in his head. Over and over again. For the both of us.

Taking one last breath, he ran towards the old gym he remembered. The doors were slightly ajar and the welcoming sound of air-filled balls bouncing off the wooden gym floor made his heart race. He screamed as he kicked the doors wide open.

“(Y/N)!”

A high pitch screech followed.

“Noya? What the hell are you doing here?”

Despite the change in hair, now back to his natural black, Ukai hadn’t changed a bit. The squealer, Takeda, held his chest tightly as he stood straight, recovering from the sudden scare. The players on the gym floor began to murmur, they’d ask their coaches questions later.

“Sorry, Takeda, Ukai. Do you know where (Y/N) is?” Noya asked, gripping his belongings tightly. “I thought she was going to be in here.”

Takeda let out a shaky laugh, “You haven’t changed a bit, Noya. But did you maybe consider she’d be in the girl’s gym?”

Ukai sent Takeda a confused look, to which the bespectacled man waved off as if saying ‘I’ll explain later.’ 

Nishinoya began bouncing on his toes, ready to move. Wearing a smile, he yelled a loud ‘thanks!’ as he bowed, before running out the double doors.

The girl’s gym, though not one he visited in his past often except for those moments he went to see (Y/N), brought a familiar feeling. The sound of balls ricocheting off of solid surfaces greeted him as he stood outside the double doors, waiting, scared.

Then he heard your voice, heavily accented but pronouncing every word with a sense of style with accuracy. Soothing and sharp with a bit of a raspy bite from years of hysterical laughter and yelling.

“Tiny Hinata! Natsu, can you do me a favour real quick?”

Slowly, he pushed the doors open.

Nishinoya didn’t even see the young orange-haired girl lift the old polaroid camera to her face. He was too busy enjoying the old familiar feeling of his girl’s hands holding his back, hardly even hearing the smack of objects fall from his hands and onto the floor. He melted. Noses brushed against each other as she pulled him into a kiss that was worth the years of patient pining. He let out a breathless laugh when she pulled away, letting his head fall back for a moment as she used her hands to lift him back into an upright position. His hand came to rest on her shoulders, massaging them gently to fully know that she was there.

That nagging feeling finally crawled away, chased out by an eruption of warmth in his stomach.

“I finally caught you, (Y/N),” he said, wearing a dopey grin.

“Took you long enough,” she teased, hitting his arm.

Picking up his belongings that he had dropped suddenly, he held the brim of her old hat between his fingers and slipped it onto her head. Back where it belonged.

The photo was a pretty one, fitting perfectly into the last page of his album.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one shot comes from a prompt in my writers notebook that I’ve been wanting to write for over a year. And when talking to one of my friends we got really into multiple different idea’s and then dragged Kiwi into it. So this one is sort of collaborated.
> 
> Castaway is a real restaurant in Florida Keys, so like, ya.
> 
> I hope you liked it! it’s the longest thing I’ve written so far and it’s about the length of a regular two or three parted story. - Bacon


	25. Stick Figures - Kozume Kenma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Writing soulmate (kind of….) (it’s more like drawing….) Whatever is drawn or written on your body appears on your soulmate's  
> Gender Neutral Reader  
> Word Count: 1.6K +

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Kenma tended to wear long sleeves. Most people questioned him about it, why would he wear long sleeves when his soulmate wouldn’t be able to see the drawings or writings on his skin? Almost everyone around him, or people he saw walking on the street, wore short sleeves in hope to catch a glimpse of an arm or hand with ink that would match theirs. 

At 16, the inked drawings would start appearing on your soulmate’s skin. If you had one, then the first thing that you drew would glow a light gold against the skin. If you didn’t have one, then it would turn red, but that was rare. It only happened if your soulmate had already died or if there were other individual circumstances. 

He only answered when his mom asked. 

“I only want them to see what I draw. I think that I will just know when I see them regardless of the drawings on their arms.” 

He would meet them when the time was right. He didn’t need to rush things and he didn’t mind waiting. 

Kenma was only nervous the first few weeks of his soulmate-ness. He would draw almost anything that he saw, books sitting on his desk, trees through the window of his classroom, everything and get nothing in return. That was the only time he really worried about it. 

He kept drawing, until one day a small happy face appeared on the corner of his wrist. His soulmate was seeing his drawings and that was the only thing that mattered. However, they wouldn’t draw much or often. Sometimes broken words or sentences would stay on his skin, but he couldn’t make out the messages the person was trying to say. 

The process was odd and convoluted. Most drawings appear on your soulmate's skin unless it was faces or something to give your location. Some words would go through, again nothing that could give yourself away. Sentences would get broken and mixed and only words of emotion would break through to the other side. 

Kenma would get messages like: _sun — blossom— every — sad— place._

He guessed the universe wanted everyone to struggle a bit before they found their soulmate. 

He could tell that his soulmate was more of a writer than a drawer. However, that only made the times when his soulmate drew something more special. He would wake up to stick figures with empty speech bubbles and half drawn butterflies on his arm. Those were the days where he started the day off with a smile. 

He took pictures of all of them, everything drawn onto his skin. 

The biggest surprise was when he woke up with a beautiful drawing on his left arm. Fully bloomed cherry blossoms wrapped around his forearm, drawn with sketchy lines, almost covering it up entirely with it. It started small at the wrist with the first flower and then the blossoms progressive got bigger as it curved down to his elbow. A branch held them all together and spiralled up to his shoulder, fading out just past it. 

He stared at it intently, it almost looked like a professional tattoo, but it couldn’t have been one. Drawings would only show up if they were hand drawn by someone. 

His mom knocked on his door. “You’re going to be late for school.” 

She looked down at his arm and walked closer towards him. “Yours?” 

Kenma shook his head. “No.” 

His mom took his arm carefully and turned it around. “It looks kind of familiar? Doesn’t it?” 

He could see his mom’s permanent mark below her wrist. It was small and he could never make out what it was supposed to be. Another side effect to soulmates, when you finally meet them, whatever was drawn or written on your arm would stay there. 

“Not really,” he said, looking at it more closely himself. “I see cherry blossoms every day when I walk to school. It could be those or they could have been copied from a picture.” 

“You know people draw really amazing things like this so that it could stand out.” His mom said, dropping his arm. “Maybe you should wear short sleeves today.” 

“I like wearing long sleeves.” 

His mom sighed. “Kenma, have you ever thought that your soulmate might want to find out who you are?” 

He shrugged and then heard the door close behind him. 

It would be a waste to wear short sleeves. He was only going to school and no one at school was his soulmate. The first week that he discovered that he had one, he purposely drew big things on his arms and tried to see if anyone would notice and come up to him, but no one did. Since then, he stopped looking at school. 

He ran his thumb over his forearm and smiled. Grabbing his phone, he took a quick photo of it before it washed off naturally. 

Somewhere out there was his soulmate. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Sometimes Kenma despised Kuroo. In the middle of his video game, Kuroo barged into his room and dragged him outside. He was meeting his own soulmate at an art gallery that was showing work of local artists, including his soulmate and Kuroo wanted to go and support them. 

“I’ll buy you lunch and pay for the ticket! Come on.” Kuroo said, pulling on Kenma’s shirt, tugging it where the drawing was. “I don’t wanna go alone!” 

Kenma pulled away and glared. “Fine. Just don’t ditch me when we get there.” 

Kuroo nodded and smirked. “Promise.” 

Kuroo did not keep his promise. He left as soon as he spotted his soulmate. Kenma decided to not waste the ticket that Kuroo brought him, so he walked around the gallery. Not to mention that Kuroo offered him lunch and he wasn’t going to pass that up. 

He enjoyed looking at art even if some of the pieces were questionable. He took his time looking around. Maybe he could take some inspiration from some of the pieces to hint that he was at an art gallery to his soulmate. Most of his attention was on the paintings that had more detail and definition until he moved to a more quiet section of the local artwork and stumbled upon drawings. 

They weren’t the original drawings. They were photos of the artwork printed on large pieces of paper and put into frames to be hung on the wall. There were fewer people here and he could hear Kuroo a little bit away. 

Some of the drawings were better than the art pieces outside in the main gallery. He could tell that the drawings had a lot of care and thought put into them with every line, stroke and shading meticulously chosen. 

“They are really good right?” 

Kenma turned around. A person was standing behind him, their hands behind their back and was looking at the drawings behind him. 

“Yes. I’m surprised that they aren’t closer to the main gallery.” 

They smiled. “I know! If I didn’t know where I was going I probably wouldn’t have seen anything else. They are really amazing.” 

Kenma smiled. “I was trying to find my friend. I’m kind of glad I didn’t find him yet though.” 

The person took a step closer. “I’m (Y/N). Is your friend a part of the galley?” 

Kenma nodded. “I’m Kenma and no, he isn’t, but his soulmate is. Are you part of the gallery?” 

(Y/N) laughed and shook their head. “God no. I can’t draw to save my life. My brother has his corner over there. I’m here as a supporter.”

They pointed behind them. Their left sleeve curled into their arm showing a small part of their wrist. 

Kenma blinked. “What’s on your arm?” 

(Y/N) raised their eyebrows, but rolled up their sleeve anyway. Inch by inch, the drawing that Kenma had stared at on his own arm relieved itself on (Y/N)’s. They smiled and started talking again even though Kenma could barely do anything but look at their arm. “My brother usually does more tattoos and he wanted to try something on a real person that wasn’t himself.” 

After a moment of silence, (Y/N) chuckled nervously. “ Kenma? Are you okay?” 

He looked up and rolled up his own sleeve. (Y/N)’s eyes widened as their arm dropped to the side, staring at Kenma’s arm that displayed their brother’s drawing. He held back a small laugh forming in his chest, did he look like this in those moments of silence? 

“We didn’t know whether or not it would show up on my soul —on your arm,” (Y/N) whispered, still in awe. They threw up a hand to cover their eyes, a smile spreading across their lips. “Holy shit, you suffered through my stick fingers while you drew me amazing trees and flowers.” 

Kenma smiled and walked up to (Y/N). He pulled their hand away and gently held the arm that canvased the drawing. He took out his own arm again and held them together, they glowed a faint gold, marking its permanence. 

“I really liked your stick drawings,” Kenma said softly. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yes,” he said. 

His hand slowly fell into (Y/N)’s hand and held it tightly. “I would love anything you drew.”

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! This is the first time in a bit at I 1) finished the one shot on time and 2) wrote something fluffy. I feel like I lost my touch with fluffiness though...As you could see if you're an advised reader/follower of this one shot book that I usually write more seriously? Sad? Ansty? Stuff So it’s kind of weird to not write those things….
> 
> Hopefully it’s okay? Maybe I’ll try writing more fluffy stuff to keep the skill! 
> 
> Also, this isn’t Ready. Aim. Fire? Part 3.. That’s going to be the week after next!!! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! - Kiwi


	26. Pictures and Parmesan - Akagi Michinari

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Regular  
> Requested  
> Fem! Reader, Mild swearing  
> Word Count: 2k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

It started when Akagi left his phone on the bench during practice. Having just run off to fill up his water bottle in one of the fountains outside, he wasn’t able to pick up his phone when it rang. Atsumu didn’t pick it up, but he did give the device a sly glance as he chugged back water, noticing the suspicious-looking contact that was only labelled with a typed out emote of the cute character that had fists up and ready. Tickled curious, he brought up the unnamed contact on Akagi’s —who was known not to give people nicknames in his contacts— phone with his brother.

“But, Samu! I want to know!”

Osamu sighed, adjusting the strap of his backpacks he stepped ahead, choosing to catch up with his teammates, “You could ask?”

It was late in the evening after practice. Everyone was leaving in the direction of the school gate. The wind was blowing gently through the spacers between them, it was relaxing, cooling even. They were all tired, Osamu included, but at least the others didn’t have to go home with a jabbering clone on their shoulders that squawked about anything that caught their interest.

“That’s no fun,” Atsumu huffed, tucking the photo into the pocket of his maroon track jacket. “Don’t you have any sense of adventure?”

“Do you have any sense of moral dignity? Don’t snoop in other people’s business.”

Atsumu skipped a few steps forward, throwing an arm over the silver-haired man’s shoulder. Head turning to face his brother, he smirked and laughed loudly in his ear. “Do you really think so low of me?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” he pouted. “I’ll do this on my own. I’ve always wanted to play detective.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Be quiet and let me live my detective fantasy.”

Osamu shrugged off the weighted arm from his shoulders and rolled his eyes. “Is that what you’re going to call it? Really?”

Atsumu just gave him a teasing grin before jumping forward to catch up with the elder of his current investigation. There was no doubt in Osamu’s mind that his brother was attempting to gather information without asking for it directly. He sighed and continued to enjoy the nice breeze.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Akagi ran through the halls of Inarizaki high, expertly dodging bystanders that crowded around the windows outside their classrooms. In his hand was a collection of wrapped string cheese. Although, one of them was unwrapped and hanging out of his mouth. He laughed through his wide, cheese-filled, grin and turned down a hall toward the second year hallways when a yell erupted from behind him. Student’s yelled at him as he zipped by.

“Michi! I swear to god I’ll bite your fucking arms off! Give me back my food!”

Akagi’s laugh was obnoxious as he turned around and got into a wide, mobile stance. He waved the collection of stick cheddar in the air and bounced on his toes.

“You shouldn’t have brought so much if you didn’t want to share!” his voice curled.

She was barreling in fast, swiping her arm at him, fingers barely brushing over his school uniform. He easily dodged, putting his libero skills to work before running off again, happily chomping on the stolen snack.

“This is the reason why you’re getting more fat than muscle!” 

“You chasing me helps burn it off!” he cheered, ripping open another string cheese, tossing the wrapper behind him and into (Y/N)’s face. She clumsily whipped her hand at it.

“Asshole, get back here so I can pummel you into a pulp!” 

They zoomed past an opening door, startling the student that was starting to leave into bumping the person behind them. 

The next piece of evidence fell out of Akagi’s phone case when the device fell out of his pocket. He didn’t notice but the twins sure did, choosing to pick up the phone and small photo. They gave it a bit more than a curious glance. It was an old photo, seemingly from elementary school, when Akagi’s hair was much longer but just as spiky. The picture itself was a posed snapshot with child Akagi and a young girl at a park, both holding string cheese between their smiling teeth. They both had their eyes shut, blocking out the sun as they looked up at whoever was taking the photo of them. It was cute.

Osamu watched the two students sprint away.

Atsumu hummed teasingly, shaking the photo in his brother’s face, “I wonder who the girl is.”

The twin responded by smacking the other’s head while picking up and tucking his teammate’s phone in his pocket, “don’t know. We’ll give it back later.”

“This could be used for my research, Samu! I can’t give it back yet.”

Osamu sighed, “For all you know they could be completely unrelated. Why don’t you just drop it?”

Astumu huffed, continuing to walk out of his classroom. Osamu smacked his brother’s arm as the figures attached to it slipped the small photograph into his pocket.

“Because, dear brother, I never drop anything.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Come on, (L/N). Give them back.”

“I’m (L/N) now? Michi, you’re the one that told me you wanted to watch your weight.”

The two stood a couple of metres away from each other, both in a defensive stance, ready to move. In (Y/N)’s hand was a small packet of cheesy crackers, partially open before leading to a tear that caused them to fall out. (Y/N) shook the package in the air.

“NO! My crackers! (Y/N), you’re a monster.”

Not far off to the side, leaning against the hardwood wall of their gym, the other third years consisting of Kita, Omimi, and Ojiro watched the two bicker while they ate their lunches. Omimi chuckled as he watched (L/N) swipe her arm out of Akagi’s way as he made a reach for the snack.

“These two are always fighting.”

Ojiro set his water bottle down before taking a bite of his lunch with a bothered huff, “I don’t know why Akagi’s upset, those were my Ritz crackers. He stole my snack first.”

Kita just shrugged, crossing his arms, “They like each other.” Noticing the sudden confused and surprised looks of his classmates and sighed while pointing to the arguing third years. “Seriously are you two blind?”

“I’ve got perfect vision thank you,” Omimi said, successfully earning a chuckle from Ojiro, who nearly choked while swallowing. 

Kita sighed, and grabbed Akagi’s phone off the bench. “Those two have known each other for years,” he said, popping off the case. “He carries a photo of them together.”

The two others looked at the phone, not saying anything, making Kita look at the device and protector in his hands.

“Shit.”

“Where’d it go?”

“I don’t know, look for it!”

The three scrambled. Kita put the case back on the phone, Ojiro lifted up everyone’s bags, and Omimi scuttled around their little area in hopes to see it drop somewhere. It should be easier than finding a needle in a haystack. That’s what they thought at least, until coming up empty and a little disappointed that they didn’t get to see it.

“It’s gone.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Atsumu looked at the little photograph as he munched away at his food, narrow spilling onto it more than a few times. It had no context to it, none other than that it came from a small moment in Akagi’s childhood. A fleeting instance where you make friends with a kid at the park only to never see them again despite promises to just that. Astumu sighed as he flipped the photo back and forth between his oily fingers. No, that couldn’t be it. If it was just a speck of time in his past, Akagi would have forgotten about it long ago. He wouldn’t carry around for years after.

Unless.

Atsumu shot up from his seat. Taking the pose of a confident explorer finding land after a long expedition. “A secret cousin that was separated from their family after a growing feud between their parents over their grandparent’s will.”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart,” Suna said after swallowing and putting his chopsticks down.

The second years gathered in the class two classroom, spinning the chairs around in the class so they could face each other as they ate. The class itself smelt primarily of chalk dust. Fresh in the air after the teacher had given the class a heated lecture about doodling on the green board. The view was a bit humorous with the said angrily slamming dirty cleaners together, creating a white cloud around the front of the front of the room. Luckily for the boys, their food did its god of creating a salivating aroma that distracted them from the sharp dust particles flying into their noses.

“You do realize none of us are in the college prep classes right?”

Kosaku nudged Ginjima’s shoulder with a chuckle. “No need to be harsh. Maybe he’s onto something.”

“He isn’t,” Osamu finally spoke up. “Akagi doesn’t have any cousins. And his grandparents are hardly even in their 80’s.”

All the second years seemed to slump in their seats slightly. Atsumu landed on his spot with an audible _thump_.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Most athletes had some sort of ritual before their games, the boys of Inarizaki’s volleyball team were no exception. Though this day, in particular, Akagi was a little more unprepared than usual. Not that it was his fault.

“Who went into my phone?!”

The other three third years bit their lips, only turning slightly to see the aggravated boy. Akagi was a playful person, often caught wearing a grin while teasing his friends or yelling his support for them at the top of his lungs, like a puppy. Right now, he was a snarling red fox, ready to pounce on anything that moved.

Out of the corner of Kita’s eye, he could see Atsumu’s head perk up and a sly smile grow at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh? What’s it a photo of?” He asked, his tone telling more about his true intentions, not that Akagi would notice in his current feral state.

“It’s me and (Y/N) as kids. I need it,” Akagi spat out, gaze darting around the change room they all stood in.

“Hmm? Who’s (Y/N)?”

Off to the corner of the room, Kita could hear Osamu mumble something about poor detective work.

“My girlfriend!”

That was new.

Everyone’s head turned to Akagi, all startled by the sudden confession.

Ojiro leaned into Kita’s side. “I thought they weren’t dating,” he said in a whisper.

The captain perused the memories he had built up over the past three years. “I thought so too.”

In contrast with the third year’s confusion, Atsumu was ginning happily to himself. He threw a fist in the air, arching backwards and let out a loud hoot. “I was right!”

“No, you weren’t, you asshole,” Osamu growled, kicking his brother in the side. Immediately after, he started tossing Atsumu’s bag like a salad before pulling out a small photo out of the side corner pocket. Atsumu whined, but Akagi was happy, eagerly snatching the photo from Osamu’s hand.

Against another wall, where the rest of the team stood, Riseki, the only first-year to join this year, suddenly yelled. “Are we just going to ignore the fact that he told us he had a girlfriend?”

The game they played that day was, to say the least, successful. That didn’t come to anyone as a surprise though. Whether it was due to their individual good luck charms, the school cheering for them in the stands, or just their skill, none of them could be fully certain, though most agree it was a culmination of all three to a degree. For Akagi though, hearing the obnoxiously humorous screaming of his girlfriend hanging off the banister in support was enough to get him moving.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When it comes to lesser-known characters I always read up on their interests and personality. String cheese just so happens to be one of those interests for Akagi. 
> 
> Also, if you couldn’t tell, I like alliteration. - Bacon


	27. Ready. Aim. Fire? Pt.3 - Sugawara Koushi & Sawamura Daichi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Gang / Organized Crime  
> Gender Neutral Reader  
> Word Count: 5.6K+
> 
> Disclaimer: contains violent themes and suggestions, gun violence (? Kind of) all of this is fiction and I don’t condone violence...anyways enjoy lol

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“I’m going to kill him,” Kiyoko said, kicking a nearby trash can. “I’m going to bash everyone’s head in–” 

“Woah,” Kuroo said, pulling Kiyoko away from the dented bin. His expressions were the same as always, easy going without a care in the world, but you could read the concern in his eyes. Another reason he’ll be a good leader, you thought _._ Care about your people but stick to business as usual, keep a level headed mind. “We don’t know if it’s actually Aoba Johsai. It could be someone else.” 

Kiyoko glared. “It’s _their_ colours, Kuroo.” 

Kuroo shrugged and rubbed his forehead, letting out an exhausted sigh. “It could be a setup. We can’t take the risk.” 

You nodded. “He’s right. We shouldn’t do anything until we know for sure. It could have been them, but if it wasn’t then we’d be declaring war with the wrong person. A person who would watch us tear each other apart to pick up the scraps.” 

Kiyoko smirked and shook her head, trying to ignore the truth in your words. “‘We’? You’re throwing that around like it’s a ball.” 

You met her eyes, they were cold and unwavering, worn with the time as gang leader. But you could see the cracks in her carefully made mask. She was, and will always be, your sister. The one you ran away for. The one you left your family for. The one you used to laugh and cry with. Your flesh and blood. The last person who understood what it was like to lose both your parents. 

The last person who remembered your father’s kind eyes and your mom’s smile. 

“If you want Neokma’s help, you have it.” 

Kiyoko nodded. “Thank you.” 

Kuroo looked between the two of you, surprised that the conversation didn’t end with bloodshed. He didn’t complain though. “What’s the first move then?” 

“First we need to figure out if it’s actually Aoba Johsai,” you said, and then turned to face Kiyoko, “you should call your members and get everything in order.”

Kiyoko furrowed her eyebrows. She was probably used to giving the orders rather than receiving them and you sighed lightly in relief when she met your eyes and walked away. 

Kuroo leaned in closer to you. “What happens if it’s them?” 

You closed your eyes and then grinned. “Then we prepare for war.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“Going somewhere?” You asked, leaning against the door frame. 

Kiyoko hesitated for the gun on the desk. She cocked her head to the side and straightened her back. Sliding the gun into the holster, Kiyoko walked through the door past you. 

Quickly, you turned around, right on her heels. You grabbed her arm and held her back. “Where are you going?” 

She ripped out of your grasp. “We know officially that it’s actually Aoba Johsai and they are going to bleed for taking them away. I’m going to get my family back. ” 

You winced. In a way, Karasuno was her family, like how Neokma was yours, but that didn’t change the fact that Kiyoko was your family too. You knew it, and you wished she did too. 

“We have a plan. Kuroo’s rounding everyone up. We’ll get them back,” you said. 

“It’s not going to work.” 

You scoffed. “You agreed to the plan. It’s going to work.” 

Kiyoko didn’t answer, but you already knew. 

“You only agreed so that the meeting would be over,” you sighed. “You're going to go after them by yourself all along.” 

You took a step closer to her and reached out for her arm, but decided against it. 

“They look horrible,” Kiyoko whispered. “Karasuno. They put on a brave face because we’re in company, but I could see it on their faces, in their eyes, they...they miss them. Even though I make the final say, Dachi is their leader and I know it, they listen to him. Koushi too. If Karasuno went into this alone, we’d lose.” 

“Karasuno might be at a low now,” you said, checking to see if you remembered your gun. You smiled slightly when you felt its weight at your side. “They might be sad and have a clouded mind, but they’re probably angry too.” 

Kiyoko looked up. 

“If they’re angry, well, then they’ll fight like they have nothing to lose and that’s powerful. Dangerous, even.” 

You reached out for her arm, grabbing it lightly this time. “That doesn’t exclude you either. No matter how angry or sad you are, you can’t risk being reckless. You are their leader, Kiyoko, if something happens to you then Karasuno will fall apart for sure, left without any type of leadership. So, you either let me come with you, or you don’t do anything at all and follow our plan. I’d suggest the latter, but I know better than that, I know _you_ better than that.” 

Kiyoko sighed and grabbed your arm back, giving you a hint of a smile. “Like old times,” she whispered.

“We need some sort of plan though,” you reasoned, enjoying the sight of Kiyoko’s sisterly smile, one that you haven’t seen for a long time. “Even if we go in guns blazing, we’d be taken down in a second. Maybe less depending on who we run into. We should let Kuroo know too…” 

Kiyoko smirked. “I’ve got a plan.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“You know,” you said, playing with the seatbelt on the passenger side of the car, “your plan might work. But it’s extremely dangerous and idiotic. I don’t know if I should be proud or get a brain scan for going along with it.” 

The corners of Kiyoko’s lips curled up. “You should be proud. It’ll work better than the other one.” 

You glared at her. “And you couldn’t have mentioned it during the three hour long meeting we had to come up with a plan.” 

She shrugged. “It was nice to hear all the ideas that I knew wouldn’t work.” 

You rolled your eyes.

“You know what to do right?” 

“Yes,” you said. “Are _you_ sure though? It could go really bad from the very beginning and we’re going to need a shit ton of luck.” 

Kiyoko shook her head and slowed down the car. She pulled across the street from Aoba Johsai’s headquarters, the windows were boarded up from the outside and a braided metal fence went around the perimeter. To anyone else, it would just look like an abandoned building, but both you and Kiyoko knew what hid behind the old brick walls. 

There weren’t any members of Aoba Johsai lurking outside the building. You were a bit skeptical. All leaders liked to know when people from other gangs entered their territory. Especially if those people were the leaders of other gangs. They probably knew that you were there, they just didn’t show or say anything. A part of their own plan. 

“It’ll work because we will make it.” She unbuckled her seat belt and turned the car off but left the keys in the ignition. “Everything will be fine.” 

She took a deep breath and then gave you a firm nod. “Wait five minutes. Remember the plan.” 

You nodded back. “Good luck...and stay as safe as you can.” 

Your eyes followed as Kiyoko walked into front of the car and jogged lightly around the corner to the entrance of the building. You swallowed and closed your eyes. _It’ll work._

The five minutes that lasted hours came anyways. 

You opened the car door and walked the path that Kiyoko did, hoping for the best, but expecting and preparing for the worst. As you turned the corner, Kuroo’s words flashed across your mind. 

_“Aoba Johsai has a lot of problems. They think they’re better than everyone else, so they let their guard down, especially when it comes down to the new members. They get put on patrol, guarding, and become runners even though high ranking members should still rotate those jobs. They don’t. So, rely on that. Rely on their ego and pride.”_

He was right. 

By the time you reached the outer door where Kiyoko should be, she was still there and not dead already. The guard standing there had his gun pointed to her, but he was shaking ever so slightly. Kiyoko had her hands up lazily and her gun was on the floor in front of her. 

You undid your own gun from the holster and aimed it up. “Hey!” 

He jumped and aimed his gun towards you and then back to Kiyoko, afraid of both of you. Kiyoko reached down to her gun. The man jumped back and pulled the trigger. 

An echoing _bang shot_ through the air as Kiyoko dropped to the floor. 

You levelled your gun and shot him in the leg.

He fell face first next to Kiyoko and gave a grunted scream. 

The door was still opened, anyone who was close enough to hear anything inside would. And if they did then you knew you were going to be surrounded by people in no time. 

You rushed over to Kiyoko and turned her over. She smirked and grimaced at you when you turned her over, keycard in hand. You held your hand to her leg to stop the fresh blood. Her leg was bleeding, but the shot was only an inch in and it went through her leg. 

She was okay. 

You heard footsteps coming from inside the building. You grabbed her arm and pulled her up. “You need to go. Now!” 

“An hour,” she whispered and shoved the key card into your hand. She glared at the person whimpering on the ground and whispered, “Lazy shot.” You stuffed it in a secret pocket that you put in last night in case this would happen. Kiyoko leaped away and rounded the corner as a person pushed through the door and held up their gun. 

You put up your hands and tried to look as neutral as possible. The person served the scene, and gripped his gun tighter when he saw you. 

With your hands still up, you pointed at the boy on the ground holding his leg. “He started it.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Daichi couldn’t hear clearly through his left ear and his chest hurt. There was a slight ringing in it, but otherwise, he felt okay. He couldn’t tell how long they’ve been down here. It was definitely a basement and there were no windows in the room they were given, the only light came from the light bulb on the ceiling. It was too tall to reach even if they stood on the cot and they tried. Daichi expected that— it was a holding cell after all — they couldn’t take the chance that they could get any weapons. Even if that weapon was a broken lightbulb. 

There was a separate door that led to a bathroom and a single cot pushed into the corner of the room. Two chairs were in the middle of the room facing each other, but other than that there was nothing. Both the chairs and the cot were bolted to the ground. 

He guessed that Aoba Johsai didn’t keep many captivities, let alone two at the same time. The people who used to be in the room probably didn’t stay for long. He didn’t even want to think about what the chairs were for. 

Sugawara took the cot today. He was a little bit worse. He had a cut on his lip and had a couple of bruises around his upper arm and stomach. Sugawara took most of the hits. They probably thought he couldn’t take it. He wasn’t as built as Daichi, but they didn’t know Sugawara like he did. 

He was a fighter. 

When they first got here, they were stalled in an interrogation that didn’t mean anything. They asked things that they knew Daichi and Sugawara couldn’t answer – wouldn’t answer. They wanted to cause them some pain even if they knew they wouldn’t get anything from it. 

Daichi glared at the door, specifically the key card reader that laid on the side of it. They put it there to mock them, saying: _look at you, the person who can’t get out. If only you had a piece of plastic._

He kept busy listening to the guards that stood patrolled the hallways. They came around every hour or so. The only thing that was persistent was the meal times. From what he could tell, they brought meals around the same time every day and it was always the same thing, just enough for two people. 

He heard something outside the door. Multiple pairs of feet rushing towards the door. 

It opened with a loud creak, waking up Sugawara and they threw someone in. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You hit the ground hard, but it didn’t hurt as much the pain in your side. The person who found you next to the guard outside elbowed you in the ribs, making you sink to your knees. The pain wasn’t the worst you’ve ever felt but it still hurt like hell. 

You curled into a small ball and groaned, holding your side. 

“(Y/N)?” 

A person rushed to your side. The room was dimly lit, the once source was a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. You looked up to see Sawamura. He grabbed your arm lightly and pulled you up. Sugawara was behind him half sitting up on the cot. His eyes were tired but alert. 

“Hey,” you winced. 

“What are you doing here?” Sugawara swung his legs over the edge of the cot and walked over to you. 

You didn’t answer and slowly limped to the cot and laid down. You could still feel the warmth from when Sugawara was lying down. You turned to face them, both had a mixed expression of relief and worry. 

“It’s a part of the plan, Daichi,” you whispered. 

Daichi widened his eyes and then quickly shifted back to a neutral face. There could be cameras anywhere in the room. He kept his voice low as he said, “A plan? Like to escape?” 

You nodded and then cringed when the action sent new pain to your side. “I’ll tell you in a second.” 

Sugawara smiled and sat beside Daichi who was sitting on the ground beside your bed. The two boys were patient. You took a deep breath and tried to tell yourself that the pain you were feeling would only last a little while longer. You didn’t think it was broken, but you weren’t a doctor, how would you know? 

You allowed yourself a second to hope, telling yourself that Kiyoko made it back to Nekoma and that they’d be here in an hour to finish what Aoba Johsai started. Her leg didn’t seem too serious, but you didn’t think that she’d be here when the heavy gunfire would start. 

“Cameras?” You keep your voice low. The holding cells at Neokma and Karasuno had them, but you weren’t sure if the ones at Aoba Johsai did. They didn’t seem to care about who was here and probably wouldn’t have had a thought about it. 

Sugawara shook his head. “We checked. There aren’t any visible ones but I don’t think we should take the chance. Especially if the information you’re going to give us is...sensitive.” 

You frowned. “It’s not like we could all go into the bathroom to talk. I agree about the cameras, but I doubt there’s any of them in there.” 

Daichi blinked. “That could work.” 

“I was joking.” 

“I know,” Daichi said quickly, “but you're right. There probably aren’t any cameras there and if there are any here then they’d probably just think that we’re either...odd or not see anything at all.” 

“Or they could see all of us go into the bathroom, come here and kill us,” you deadpanned. 

“Let’s just try,” Sugawara said. 

They were too optimistic. You looked between the two of them, both had hints of smiles on their faces that made you want to shout at them, but there were bigger things at hand. You’d have to tell them the plan before the other came or else things could end badly if they weren’t informed. 

“Fine.” 

You pushed yourself off the bed ignoring the pain in your side and went to the bathroom. They followed closely behind making sure that you didn’t fall or hurt yourself further. You hated it. You’ve stopped relying on people since you left Karasuno and the only other person who you truly trusted with work was Kuroo. Kiyoko came in at second because she was your sister. She knew you, but it was hard to tell where she stood sometimes. Most of your conversations ended with fights, so it was hard to believe whether or not your sisterly bond had fully returned within the days that you two weren’t at each other’s throats. 

The first thing you learned when you entered Nekoma was how to be self reliant. 

The bathroom was small, barely enough to fit two people. It would be a tight squeeze. You went and sat on the edge of the bathtub, that was clearly unused. Daichi came in after taking a spot beside you and Sugawara closed the door behind him and leaned against it. 

“So the plan?” Sugawara asked. His voice was still low, but clearer than in the room. 

“The first thing you need to know,” you started, “is that we only have an hour before they come for us.” 

Sugawara nodded. “So getting captured was a part of the plan?” 

“Yes. I came here with Kiyoko, it was her plan. She was actually supposed to be the one who came here, but it was always going to be a 50/50 shot. We knew from Kuroo that Aoba Johsai relied on lower level members to guard doors, so we expected that whoever we were going to run into would be a little shaky. We didn’t know he was going to be...trigger happy.” 

Daichi flinched. “Is Kiyoko okay?” 

You nodded quickly. “She’s fine. Got shot in the leg, but alive last time I saw her.” 

Both sighed in relief. 

“We thought that he would shoot at me, but I guess he just shot who he thought he could hit. We got what we needed though.” You put your hand to your pocket and pulled out the key card. “They are so stupid to have a key card reader on the inside of the holding cell.” 

The genuine smile returned to their faces and this time you were happy to see them.

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Any minute now. 

None of you were sure of what you were supposed to wait for. An explosion? Gunfire? The one thing that you knew for sure was that you’d know it when it happened. 

“(Y/N)?” Sugawara asked. 

You snapped out of your thoughts and turned to face him. Even though the question was directed to you, it caught Daichi’s attention too. 

You hummed in response, not taking your eyes off of the door. 

“Why are you...Why do you…?” 

You laughed. “I assume that there is an end to those questions.”

“You don’t seem to like us that much,” Sugawara said, “why?” 

“Is now a good time to talk about that?” 

Sugawara shrugged. “Probably not, but there are never good times. Not with what all of us do for a living. This is a convenient time, all we’re doing is waiting. Also, I’m curious. ”

You glanced between the two of them. “It’s not like I hate the two of you...you just remind me of someone I’d rather not remember.” 

“Who?” Daichi asked. 

You looked away from them. “My mom.” 

The gunfire echoed the hallways. 

It started. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

In no time, the three of you held guns in your hands. 

Another hiccup in the plan: even though Kuroo’s intel about Aoba Johsai has been correct so far, he didn’t know where the holding cells would be. They couldn’t wait for someone to find them, so they would have to meet up with Karasuno and Neokma by yourselves. 

There were dead or injured bodies every turn you took and every stairwell you went up, but you wouldn’t stop until you saw Kuroo or another high ranking member of Neokma. However, Daichi and Sugawara quickly found the members of Karasuno. 

A short orange hair boy ran up to them with a smile on his face, droplets of blood decorated his right cheek. 

“Have you seen Kuroo?” 

The orange hair boy’s eyes snapped to yours. He straightened his spine and dropped his smile. Sugawara smiled at him while Daichi covered his mouth to stiffen a laugh. 

“No,” he said. “Neokma took the other side of the building.” 

You laughed a little too at his formalness. “Okay.” You pointed to both Daichi and Sugawara. “Get them out of here. They have some minor injuries which could turn out to be more, get someone to see them.” 

He nodded and grabbed both of their arms. “Of course.” 

Daichi pulled his arm back. “Where are you going?” 

You raised your gun and shot behind Daichi. Their heads turned as a body dropped behind them. “I’m going to find Kuroo. I’m not leaving until he does.” 

Sugawara shook his head. “You’re injured too. You could barely stand when they threw you into the cell. Hinata should take us all back.” 

“You’re injured?” Hinata said. He quickly roamed you to find your hand clutching to your side. 

“Yes, but it’s fine. I’ve had worse and I don’t want to leave Kuroo here. I need to tell him something and I can’t if I die within the next couple of seconds. I can clearly walk too.” 

“I understand that,” Daichi said, looking over his shoulder in case anyone decided to shoot at the four of you. “But you’re their leader. It’s important for you to be here but it’s more important that you stay alive so that you can be there for the aftermath.” 

He sounded like you when you were speaking to Kiyoko in the car. 

“He’ll be fine,” Hinata added. “You know Kruoo, he can handle himself. The whole point of this is to get everyone out safely as possible and that won’t happen if we’re all dead.” 

You bit your tongue. “Fine.”

Hinata nodded and turned, in what you could assume, was the direction he came in. You hated being in hallways. It was open ended and anyone could come from either direction. Together you devised a system, Hinata and Daichi lead with their guns raised and walking to an exit while you and Sugawara walked backwards, securing both sides. 

You were almost there. The pan in your side was lessening but still present. 

A strange mix of calmness and panic coursed through your body as you saw the influx of Aoba Johsai members flood your vision. Sugawara tightened beside you and nudged Daichi in the back. 

You were an excellent shot, but even you knew that when it came to gunfights, the number of people mattered. 

You couldn’t count how many people you shot. All you knew was that you ran out of bullets faster than the others. You quickly searched for another gun and leaned down to grab one from a body off the ground. 

You heard another gunfire. You raised the gun and shot them with the bullet landing square in his chest. 

Someone grabbed your hand and started dragging you. You let them as you fired your gun time after time, slowly wilting down the people who stood in your way. They pushed you out the door and slammed it shut. You stumbled as the person let go of you.

Daichi looked around and a broken pipe caught his eye. He picked it up and shoved it through the handle, scratching the door closed. 

“Everyone good?” Daichi asked, surveying everyone. 

Sugawara nodded along with Hinata. You were about to join them when a sharp pain burst to your side. You gasped and bent down, hand to the pain. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You looked up to them slowly approaching you. You pulled your hand away and held it in front of you. Your hand was painted deep with dark red blood. 

You fell to your knees. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Kiyoko was lying in the bed beside yours. Your eyes blinked as they met hers. Her leg was elevated up in a sling that was attached to the ceiling and her hands held brown folders in them. Relief flooded through you when you saw that she was alive. You never thought that she was dead, but it was good reassurance that she was alive. 

“Kiyoko?” 

She smiled at you and placed the papers down. “Hey, (Y/N).” 

“What happened?” You tried to sit up but flinched at the new pain at your side. 

Kiyoko grimaced. “You were shot near the ribs. You shouldn’t move either. It’ll hurt for a bit.” 

You nodded weakly and rubbed your eyes. 

“(Y/N)?” 

Your eyes moved to meet her again, careful not to move your body, but your eyes strayed as your eyes adjusted to the light. It was the hospital wing at Karasuno. You swallowed, it was exactly the same as the last time you saw it. 

“Yeah?”

She shifted in her bed to face you. “You know how you asked me how mom and dad died? I got the file on them and it doesn’t make any sense. And honestly, I don’t believe anything that grandfather said in the reports. It all seems...too clean. Do...Do you know how they died?” 

You looked away from her. You didn’t like to think about your parents. You loved them deeply, but the thought of them only made you realize how you left them, how you didn’t get to say goodbye to them. 

“When I joined Neokma,” you started, picking at your hand, “and heard that they died, I was heartbroken. But...But I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. I’m not sure how it was on the Karasuno side, but there were tons of rumours saying that our grandfather killed them.” 

Kiyoko closed her eyes. “I didn’t think they were true.”

“I couldn’t find out the truth for myself because that would mean going back to Karasuno territory and I couldn’t. I had Kuroo find out if it was true and when he told it was...I killed our grandfather.” 

Kiyoko put a hand to her cheek, wiping it dry. “Is that why you left?” 

You shuddered. “Kind of? Our parents died so soon after I left, I don’t think they got the chance to tell you how it happened, but I left because of you.” 

Kiyoko snapped her head up. “(Y/N), I’m —” 

“Let me finish,” you interrupted, “I left because at Karasuno they have this tradition: if you’re siblings, whoever doesn’t become leader gets killed. The first kill of the official leader. I overheard mom and dad talking about it saying that I was in the lead and I knew that I couldn’t kill you, Kiyoko. I couldn’t. After that, I tried to do everything to show that I wouldn’t be a good leader, failing all the tests and things they put us through but it didn’t work. 

“I left just before they would decide who would become the next leader. I couldn’t kill you. I don’t know if you could have at the time, but even if you did, I don’t know if you could live with yourself after. I didn’t want you to put that on you either.” 

Kiyoko looked away from you. After a moment, she said, “I wouldn’t have been able to do it either…” 

You laughed a little, trying to ease up the tension in the air. “That’s good to know.” 

“You could have told me,” she whispered. “I could have helped you. We could have found a way out.”

You shook your head. “Mom and dad tried everything already by the time I found out. We couldn’t have done anything and if we outright refuse to do it, our grandfather would probably have killed us both on the spot.” 

Kiyoko nodded meekly. “I miss them.” 

“I miss them too.” 

Silence hung in the air, a comfortable one. 

“I actually have something to tell you,” you said, breaking the calmness. Carefully, you sat yourself up on the bed, only jerking your head slightly when the pain seeped through. “I think I want to step down as leader of Neokma.” 

“What?” Kiyoko said. “But—But the alliance.” 

You laughed. “I don’t think that Kuroo would be against the alliance between Karasuno and Neokma.” 

Kiyoko smiled and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re making Kuroo the next leader?” 

“Yeah. I think everyone knows that he’s the real leader.” 

“That’s a good choice.” 

“Also, I was hoping to maybe do something in between.” 

Kiyoko furrowed her eyebrow. “In between?” 

“I don’t want to be a leader,” you smiled, “I don’t think I’ve _ever_ wanted to be one. I can’t leave Neokma fully, they’re my family, but you are too. Karasuno is too. I know how things work on both sides, so maybe I could be like a diplomat or something. Help keep the alliance in place and things along the lines of that.” 

Kiyoko grinned. “I could make that work.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

It wasn’t long before the entire hospital room was filled with people from both Neokma and Karasuno. You had called a meeting despite the very informal setting. The pain in your side still prevented you from moving, so it was easier having everyone come to you. 

“I have an announcement,” you said, letting your voice carry across the room. Everyone turned their head to you. “First, I want to say thank you to everyone who helped get Daichi, Sugawara and, kind of, me back from Aoba Johsai and from what I heard from Kruoo, they won’t be a big problem anymore. The main thing I wanted to tell you all is that from this point on, I will no longer be the leader of Nekoma. I am stepping down.” 

The Nekoma side of the room erupted with confusion. 

“Quiet down please,” you said. You looked around the room smiling at the people looking back at you. “I also want to appoint the new leader, if he’d like the job.” 

Your eyes landed one Kuroo and grinned at him. “Kuroo?” 

The corners of his lips curled up to a beaming smile. He took a step closer to you and gave you a mocking deep bow before returning your gaze. “It’ll be my honour to look after these idiots.” 

The crowd cheered him.

“What will you do?” Kuroo asked once it died down. 

“She’ll be working with us,” Kiyoko answered for you. “A person who knows both Neokma and Karasuno to help with the alliance and any other problems. If you still wanted to do that to align yourself with Karasuno.” 

Kuroo smirked and turned to face you. “Does that mean you’ll be answering my orders?” 

“In your dreams.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Once Kiyoko left the Hospital wing with a clean bill of health, Daichi and Sugawara came to visit you. You were surprised but didn’t complain. 

“Feeling better?” Sugawara asked. 

“Better than when I got shot,” you said. “It still hurts a bit, but what’s life without a little bit of pain?” 

Daichi laughed. “Does this mean you’re staying at Karasuno?” 

You shrugged. “Kind of. I’ll be going back and forth I imagine. Kuroo already asked me if I could give him a few pointers of being a leader.” 

“That good. We actually wanted to tell you something,” Sugawara said. 

“The both of you?” 

Sugawara nodded. “First, I wanted to say that you should call me Koushi…if you want too of course.” 

You smiled. 

“Second,” he continued, “we’re not going to pretend that we know what your life is. We barely know you aside from being the leader of Neokma.” 

“Former leader,” you corrected. 

Daichi smiled. “But now that you’re going to spend more time at Karasuno...We both wish you’d see us more than a ghost of your mom.” 

You swallowed. This definitely wasn’t how you thought the day would end. 

“My mom...she was the loveliest person in the world. She’d wake me up smiling and was always a little too optimistic.” You smiled at the thought of her. You shook it out of your thoughts and held your head up high, she would have to wait. “Neither of you are the ghost of my mom, she already follows me around. When people like my mom die, when people like the both of you die, it leaves a scar with the rest and I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want that for Kiyoko, the members of Karasuno, and for me.” 

Koushi and Daichi’s gazes soften. 

“It might tell a little time,” you continued, “but I’ll try and we can go from there.” 

They shared a look between the two of them and smiled back at you. 

“That’s all we can ever ask for.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END.  
> So...first….sorry that this is late...again.
> 
> Second...sorry that it’s not really romance heavy….that’s another thing I’ve been trying to work on. 
> 
> I kind of wanted to have a semi open ended thing and hopefully this isn’t too bad to wrap things up…
> 
> If I have any loose ending or ideas you want tied up, you can ask and I’ll answer :)
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it.   
> -Kiwi


	28. Lost In- What Word? - Akaashi Keiji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Single Parent  
> Requested  
> Word Count: 4.5k+
> 
> Disclaimer: Fem! Reader, Time skip spoilers, Udai being a meta Furudate insert, just fluff

•──────⋅☼⋅──────• 

Akaashi wasn’t sure if Udai was naturally forgetful, or just held so much anticipation in his smaller form that he glossed over details and didn't realize it. Udai was an excellent author despite not having reached the major public yet. His first published work was short and eerie which most of the shonen reading population didn’t greedily rip off the shelves. Although, those that did read it gave him overwhelming support, maybe the rest of the world wasn’t ready for that kind of psychological horror just yet.

When Akaashi originally applied for a position at the publishing company he intended to work in the literature department, editing lengthy novels and picking out grammatical errors, not reading conversations via text bubbles and looking for continuity errors between images. He never did pick out the exact moment he went from editor to fact-checker and archivist. Akaashi also never knew how many different ways there were to translate a single word until he met you. And once he did, he realized that his eyes would follow you across the office as you ran around and spoke to other editors, helping them furnish their translations so that they flowed properly.

“Tenma, isn’t he meant to be out of the rotation for this panel?” Akaashi couldn’t help but grimace when faced with the utter despair that had pulled on Udai’s typically eased expression. The panel itself was masterfully drawn, taking up two pages and showing off Udai’s immense talent in drawing expressions and anatomy.

“I spent 8 hours on that, only to find out that it needs to be scrapped. What has my life come to?”

The yellow office lights made both of the men’s hair give off a green tinge and made their faces look sickly. Udai frowned as he pushed his chair back and let his chin sit on the table of the small meeting room. His hair curled around his fingers as they gently tugged on the ends of the wavy black stands, straightening them only to let them go and have them bounce back into place.

Akaashi flipped through the printed out pages of the chapter, letting the loose papers lay flat on the table. He pointed to the next pages. “These are fine though. They’re in the right rotation here, so not all is lost at least.”

Udai sighed, as he threw his weight back into the chair, making it spin with his momentum. “That’s all well and good, but I was really proud of that panel. It was going to be the attention grabber.”

Akaashi pursed his lips gently, flipping through the pages once more before tucking them into the pale yellow folder and closing it. Udai’s new story was in its beginning stages, only having a sample chapter that would be published in the following week’s magazine, that is if they got it done in time. 

“It needs to be perfect. I can’t have this not work and starve for the rest of my life.”

Akaashi opened his mouth slightly, taking in a deep breath, ready to spout out his words of encouragement for his colleague when there was a knock on the door followed by the soft creaking of the hinges as it opened.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to ask Udai about some of the uh… what’s the word? Dang, I’m supposed to know Japanese, it’s my job. The— I give up. Help?”

Udai chuckled and waved you over to take the seat opposite him, you shook your head and bowed slightly as your hand raised, saying you were alright, not needing the chair. Leaning down slightly you pointed at the ruff sketch copy in your hand where your current author’s handwriting seemed to over the edges of the text bubble slightly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but how in the hell am I supposed to translate ‘paisen’?”

The innocent question seemed to brighten Udai’s mood much more than Akaashi’s monotone words of support would have. The older man launched backwards, nearly flinging himself off the chair, in a fit of laughter. His hands gripped the shirt he wore above his stomach and chest as they tried to ease the laughing pains.

Akaashi chuckled at the sight before looking at your somewhat regretful expression, you were probably too used to your co-workers laughing at your in-fluency at Japanese. “You can probably substitute a familiar nickname or a joking reference of respect.”

You sighed and brushed your hand over the back of your neck, “I swear, Himari had the intent to torture me with this last chapter. Thank you, Akaashi.”

Finally calmed from his fit of giggles, Udai sat straight in his chair and sent you a gracious smile. “Well, at least when you join our team I won’t torture you as much.”

You gave Udai and Akaashi a teasing smirk as you reached for the door handle. “I’m not so sure about that,” you said. “Besides, you need to get the attention of the readers before I join your team. No point in translating a comic that doesn’t even get off the ground right?”

You sent them a wink and the door closed behind you with a quiet click.

“Was that a challenge?”

“I believe so,” Akaashi said, handing Udai a blank sheet of paper. “Looks like we have some work to do.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────• 

The office was, as it was the day before, and the day before that, calm. Udai sat in a small isolated office on his own with a naturally coloured lamp hanging over his hunched figure. The rest of his team, including Akaashi and now you as well, sat outside his door in a row of cubicles that led up to a large window that took up the entirety of the wall. In the corner cubicle, pressed against the window and directly across from him, you sat, typing away on your computer as you translated the Japanese text into Wild Words fonted English. 

“Akaashi, is the end of chapter ready to translate?” Your head peeked over the frosted cubicle wall, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and the corner of your eyes pinching together. Akaashi’s gaze fluttered around.

“Ah, Ya the edits are done so you can finish translating it now.”

The smile you wore only seemed to grow, making Akaashi want to turn away and stare at the same time. The sun’s light contrasted with the dull rectangular lights in the office, making your skin glow. Your fingers tightened on the top of the glass and your shoulders rose to your ears, you narrowly missed knocking over an owl keychain that hung on his side of the wall.

“Perfect,” you said. “I’ll get them done now.”

The day continued like this, everyone working and occasionally calling out to each other through their cubed walls, possibly getting a twirling pen in the forehead followed by a meek apology (coming from you). Every time you spoke to someone you would rise out of your seat to make eye contact with them, refusing to continue speaking otherwise, and even though he wasn’t the person you always spoke to, each time your head began to poke out of your squared corner Akaashi couldn’t help but turn his attention your way, watching as the sun's light danced around you. It didn’t come to a surprise when, like every instance before, Akaashi looked up when you shot up from your seat. Only this time there was a frantic look plastered unevenly on your face, one that the warm light didn’t compliment.

“Please tell me my clock is wrong and that it’s not 4 pm.”

Chiyo leaned back in her chair, setting down her Cintiq’s pen and flipped the watch on her wrist so that the face faced her. “Yup, it’s actually 4:15.”

Akaashi was surprised to hear a not so work friendly English curse leave your lips as you rushed to save files on your computer while simultaneously packing your purse. You continued to swear as you ran out of your cubicle and toward the elevators with a quick “goodbye” being thrown over your shoulder. The office was quiet.

“Does that happen often?” Ena asked as he pulled off his glasses.

The group of artists and their editor sat in stunned silence for a few moments, minds racing over where the young translator had scurried off to. In their collaborative confusion, the team slowly went back to their respective jobs.

Himari came around the corner of the office, coffee in hand, as she chatted with her editor, who was nursing his own mug. The writer looked up for her conversation to see Udai’s team and gave them a polite nod. They were going to meekly return to their work when Himari paused her steps and looked at the empty plush chair that sat rotated and untucked in your cubicle.

“Oh, did (Y/N) leave?” to Akaashi’s surprise, Himari was not.

“Does she do that often?” he asked, setting down his pen on the counter of his desk.

Himari nodded, smiling, “Oh ya, sometimes she gets lucky and her friend can handle it but a lot of the time she has to run out of here by 3.” Akaashi’s brow furrowed slightly as Himari took a sip of her coffee before continuing waving her hand by her head, “Don’t worry too much about it though, she always comes in early to get her work done.”

Before they could question further, Himari was off with her editor sending them a knowing smile.

When the end of the workday rolled around, only 45 minutes after your quick departure, Akaashi found his eyes trailing back to his phone that sat at the corner of his desk on top of a stack of papers. Keeping watch on his phone, he swung his bag over his shoulder and shut off his computer. The device remained silent as the team began to pile out of their seats, toward the elevators and in a fit of contemplation, he reached for the phone.

Your response was quick and vague; _Family thing, happens often. I’ll tell you later. See you tomorrow!_

•──────⋅☼⋅──────• 

After the sample comic was released, Udai was thrown when he received an immense amount of interest for his characters and story, and he was even more excited when he received word from the magazine’s publishers that they wanted him to continue with the path he was on. The months building up to this moment were filled with constant plot revisions, reference excursions, and interviews until they came to a conclusive framework of the story, and continued introductions as new members were added to their original duo to make the workload less hefty. 

Today though was the day that the story’s first chapter would finally be released to the public. 

Akaashi tracked into the office, heading to the lounge to grab a coffee before coming up to his cubicle against the window and setting his bag down, immediately heading to the lounge. 8:40 in the morning, 20 minutes before the expected time of arrival, Akaashi, back at his desk, was just about to take a sip of coffee when a small snore overlapped the sound of the air conditioners, creating a dishonest harmony. 

On the other side of the frosted glass wall of the cubicle was you, head resting on the black mouse pad that had a small plush cushion for your wrist. Akaashi quickly rounded the desks, coming to our side to gently rouse you from your slumber before your co-workers arrived. He wasn’t to wake you up gently with a hand on your shoulder, that was the plan. The plan changed when he noticed the small picture frame on your desk, surrounded by various action figures and Funko pops.

With one hand on your shoulder and the other holding the fame, he studied the photo with a kind gaze. He was so enthralled with the image that he forgot that below his other hand, was you.

“He’s cute ain’t he?” you asked, startling the editor back to his current reality as you stretched, arching your back like a cat. Akaashi’s attention was brought back to the current situation as you reached out for another frame in the opposite corner of your desk. “His name is Naoko. Here, this photo is newer.”

The young boy in the new photo looked like you a lot, more so than the previous one where he was just an infant that carried more resemblance to a potato than a human. Akaashi, without taking his eyes off the pictures, pulled the chair out from under Ena’s desk and sat next to you. He didn’t say anything, deciding just to admire the photos he held and letting you decide whether or not he should have the pleasure of hearing a story.

You sighed and yawned, leaning over the armrest of your chair so you would see them too. “He’s six, really quiet. I moved here when I found out. Hardly even out of university, and I was already pregnant with some strangers kid,” you laughed, making Akaashi stare at your features for a moment, wanting to point out which ones could be found on the boy.

“Is he the reason you moved to Japan?” Akaashi was a little taken aback by your willingness to talk, but in hindsight, you didn’t seem like the person to keep secrets, often rattling with your co-workers about your interests. Thinking back, maybe he should have expected something like this, Himari seemed to have known after working with you for several years, happily dancing around the topic of your personal life with your new coworkers when your sudden departure was questioned.

You shrugged, “not entirely, but he sure was a good excuse. I had plans to move to Japan for years before I even got into university. When I found out, I was sort of… uh. English…. _Fuck, I need a job_. So I applied to be an intern here, moved in with a friend I met online and prepared to have a baby.” Your arms flew about as you talked.

“You act as though it was easy,” Akaashi laughed, placing the frames back onto the table.

You let out a happy chuckle and spun your chair to face Akaashi head-on, eyes not leaving his, “I wouldn’t say it was easy, per se, but I’m happy with how things turned out.” you yawned a bit, “I should also apologize for running out of the office early sometimes, I have to pick Naoko up from school so —”

“You don’t have to apologize for that.” The gentle smile he wore was contagious.

It was 8:50 when the rest of the team came in. Immediately catching sight of Ena, Akaashi pulled away from your side, rolling the chair back to its respective location. He heard a breathy laugh escape you as he scurried around the desks to return to his designated spot across from you, cardigan flailing about.

The rest of your team piled into their seats sending the two of you waves and morning greetings. Ena nearly dropped his ‘don’t talk to me till I’ve had my coffee’ mug as he tripped over his rubber slides just before reaching his desk next to yours.

Sending your friends a smile you quickly slid back into your cubicle to re-adjust the frames on your desk with a yawn. Akaashi gave you a nod when you looked up to his stiff, still standing, form. You made his heart feel much weaker than he’d like to admit and without saying another word, he picked up the forgotten mug filled with brown liquid and handed it over the glass, into your hands.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────• 

Naoko was much more reserved than Akaashi expected, definitely a contrast to your more hyper personality. He spent most of the day sitting in the corner behind your cubicle where a table was set up next to a row of cabinets. What the boy was doing, Akaashi wasn’t entirely sure, but there was a small tickle at that back of his brain that made him want to find out.

When you had come in that morning, the group was surprised to see the small boy trailing behind you, holding onto your hand tightly with the both of his. “PD day,” you said. Udai spent the first few minutes of the day gushing over the boy’s cheeks instead of working, only to end up being backtracked and having to cram into his lunch break. Akaashi would be lying if he said he wasn’t thankful for that though.

“What do you have there?” he asked, taking a seat next to the boy and setting down his lunch next to the younger’s bento box.

Naoko curled in on himself, bringing the phone (that was most definitely yours) to his chest. The boy’s knees had pulled up to his shoulders as his feet pushed on the edge of the chair. Akaashi sent the young boy a kind smile and waited. From the corner of his eye, he could see your chair turn around as you took in the sight of your son and co-worker. He watched as you began making large swinging motions with your arms. Akaashi tried not to laugh.

Whatever had been playing on the phone hadn’t been paused in the short time given to do so, making the familiar sound ring quietly around the two of them. 

Akaashi looked back your way for a moment, only to see you tilt your head up in a supporting nudge and turn back around.

“Are you watching a volleyball game?” he asked, rousing a more positive reaction from the boy.

Naoko’s shoulders lowered and he slowly placed the phone down between them. As Akaashi had concluded, a volleyball game played on the small screen. He put forward another question.

“Do you like to play?”

The six-year-old shrugged but nodded before scooting his chair in closer and reaching for his food. Akaashi mirrored him, slipping off his collared cardigan and pulling his lunch closer, still watching the game.

“I used to play volleyball.” This caught the boy’s attention, who turned his head to look at Akaashi, brows raised and lips pursed. “I was a setter.”

Naoko swallowed his food and for the first time, Akaashi got to hear him speak.

“I like playing setter too.”

His voice was rather meek and had a sort of authority to it, but the biggest thing he noticed made him stifle a laugh.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he called gently, making you spin your chair around in question. “Why is Naoko better at Japanese then you?”

“Hey! That’s mean!”

Naoko began to wiggle in his seat, desperately trying not to laugh at his mother’s, your, irritation. You shot a look at your son and gasped.

“Don’t you start laughing at me. I speak English better than you do.”

“You don’t need to speak English in Japan, mom.”

Kaashi continued to choke on his laugher as you pushed the palm of your hand into your forehead. “I’m being teased by my own son,” you cried quietly, turning your chair back around to face the unedited pages.

Naoko giggled and looked back Akaashi’s way. “Can you teach me?”

Akaashi didn’t see you still in your chair, listening.

“Of course I can.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Udai, seriously? You promised that you weren’t going to use weird industry term slang stuff on me.”

With a wide-eyed look and hair messily tied back, the man in question rotated his chair around childishly. “I never promised. I just said I'd go easier on you.” It was infuriating really. 

With a pitiful whine, you shook the rough script in your hand making an angry fluttering sound. “You’re so mean Tenma. You know that I have trouble with slang.”

Udai only laughed and waved you off, “It’s a good way to learn is it not?”

You rolled your eyes but relented, giving a wave and closing the door. Once at your seat Akaashi poked his head out, eyes visible over the top of his square-framed glasses.

“He did it again?”

“Ya,” you huffed. “I can’t blame him though. It’s just frustrating that I can’t remember what a lot of the words mean. I should buy a dictionary.” Akaashi watched as you turned your monitor on. “Oh, um, Naoko was asking about you the other day.”

“Really?”

Your hands came together behind your neck, pulling your head down bashfully. “Ya, he’s been wanting to show you how he’s doing and maybe get the chance to learn a bit from you.”

Akaashi gave you a kind smile, so small that it didn’t even crease his cheeks, and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Your cheeks warmed as you beamed up at him before turning your head down towards your computer screen. Akaashi took a second to appreciate how the cool light from the overcast sky made you look. It was silent in the office for a moment. Just a moment.

“Udai! Another one?!”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

In theory, so long as you have space above your head, you can play volleyball anywhere. Your apartment wasn’t ‘anywhere’.

The three-bedroom living space was built as housing and not an Olympic arena, and after breaking one too many of your glasses plating around, it was made clear to you, Naoko, and your sport junky roommate, that volleyball shouldn’t be allowed in the house.

“You guys can go play volleyball with Akaashi at the park, no?” Yukie asked, grabbing an onigiri of the large plate on your kitchen counter and stuffing it in her face. You made a large dinner that day, only to have your friend eat most of it, instead of leaving leftovers for Naoko’s lunch. Not that he complained about it, you sure did though.

Taking Yukie’s words to heart, when the weekend rolled around and Naoko was becoming more anxious, you invited Akaashi to your neighbourhood park to play volleyball.

“Open your elbows a bit more, make a triangle with your hand, and when the ball comes just cushion it with your fingertips before sending it out, okay?”

Naoko nodded, staring at his hands that were being moved around by the older player. Akaashi’s form was kneeled by the boy’s side, his head nearly resting on the younger's shoulder as he tried to make sure he was in the right position.

“Alright,” he said, grabbing the smaller than average volleyball off of the grass. “I’m gonna toss this to you, do you think you can get it to hit my hand right up here?”

Naoko nodded again, eagerly waiting for the blue and yellow ball to come flying his way. You watched silently from the park bench as Naoko tried (and often failed) to get the ball to touch Akaashi’s hand accurately. 

“Almost there, you got this Naoko!” Akaashi encouraged.

Earnestly waiting to see the next move, you sat forward in your seat, watching as that ball made a tall arch towards Naoko’s waiting palms. As the ball made contact with his fingertips, he bent his elbows and wrists before shooting them out into a straight line, sending into the palm of Akaashi’s hand before dropping back onto the grassy field.

Your son, as most six-year-olds do when accomplishing something, shrieked. He shrieked very loudly before sprinting directly into Akaashi’s stomach to give him a (breath-stealing) hug. Akaashi coughed as he tried to get air back into his depleted lungs. From the side you giggled, watching as Naoko’s smile grew, head buried into Akaashi’s stomach.

It became standard, going out to the park during your off days. And this day, like the weekends that have come before, the routine of going to the park, ball in hand, continued. But after spending an hour or so watching the familiar movement of the yellow and blue ball fly through the air, Naoko interrupted the serene setting with a loud request.

“Mama! Mom! Can we go get onigiri?”

Looking up from resting your neck on the back of the bench to turn your gaze onto the energetic boy that was hopping around on the grass. “I’m okay with that, but you should probably ask Akaashi along. We don't want to leave him at the park do we?” you teased, picking up your bag and walking toward the two.

Naoko spun again to look at Akaashi, whose hands were now tucked into his jeans pockets. “Please!” he wailed. “Come with us! Please, please, please, please, please!”

Akaashi let out a hearty laugh. “Calm down, I’ll join you.” without saying another word, Akaashi offered his hand out, letting Naoko clutch it eagerly.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Udai are you sure it’s okay to bring Naoko along? This is meant to be a work trip and I’d hate for him to dis… dic… get in the way,” you gave up at the end, sighing over your tripping words.

Udai gave Naoko, who had been clinging to Akaashi’s arm since all of you had met outside the city gymnasium, a pat on the head. “It’s alright. Besides, he’ll probably be a great resource.” 

You nodded and watched as Naoko rattled to Akaashi about his school team and new things they had been practicing. You pouted. Upon their arrival, Ena, Chiyo and the others immediately began teasing you for effectively losing your son’s favour, which didn’t make your whining any less audible. On top of that, the group of artists found your sullen look to be a perfect reference, taking their cameras out.

“Keiji,” you cried, following behind the rest of the group as they waltzed through the gym entrance along with the crowd. “You’ve stolen my son.”

Akaashi paused for a moment, taking in a calm breath before looking over his shoulder. “He’s your son, I can’t steal that from you.”

Naoko threw a large smile over his shoulder, making your dragging steps falter.

When did it change? The expression on his face. When did it become so happy? Did he not smile before?

You picked up your pace, brows furrowed as you watched your son chatter happily.

When did he start speaking so much? Since when did he have so much to say? Was it something new in his diet? Or maybe the new friends on his volleyball team?

You found your gaze shifting to the hand that held his. Without thinking about it too hard, you quickened your steps to come up to Naoko’s other side. Your heart pounded as you held your closest hand out for him to grab hold of. When he finally did, immediately looking forward to dragging the two adults with him, the smile you gave Akaashi was the largest he’s ever seen coming from you. 

You looked back at all of your interconnecting hands fondly.

_When did he become another person’s son?_

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried going a bit of a different direction with this one in comparison to most Single Parent aus. I’ll admit it could have more meat to it, but oh well, things to improve on. 
> 
> Question:  
> Do you prefer weekly one-shots that are shorter in length (like we’re doing) or longer ones with bigger plots and inconsistent updates (Sort of like “Catch Me If You Can” and “Ready Aim FIre” but longer)? 
> 
> \- Bacon


	29. Crashing Into You Pt.1 - Haiba Lev

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Body Swap  
> Requested  
> Dancer! Gender Neutral! Reader  
> Word Count: 2.5K+

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**LEV’s DAY**

It was already the start of a bad day. Lev could feel it. 

His arms and legs were already at its limits from an early practice, Kenma and Kuroo were on him about his volleyball forms, and if he didn’t drink some water soon, he was going to die of dehydration. 

He shrugged on his club jacket, said goodbye to his fellow members—who he was going to see later at after school practise— and got ready for the first class of the day. Lifting the water bottle to his lips, he closed his eyes and chugged down the cool water. He pushed open the club room door and stepped out. 

Then he fell hard onto his back. 

“Ouch,” he groaned. 

Lev tried to get up, but stopped short when he felt an unfamiliar weight on top of him. He looked down at his chest and came face to face with a head of hair. 

The person rolled off of him and groaned too, rubbing their wrists. “I am so sorry.” 

They stood up, wobbling slightly, and offered a hand to Lev. He took a moment to ease out of the pain in his back and looked up to the person that crashed into him. They had a bag, like his, over their shoulder and was dressed in tights and a loose top. They weren’t tall, at least a head or two shorter than him. How did they knock him down like a bullet?

“Are you on the track team?” Lev asked, taking their hand. He mostly stood up by himself, but he thought that it was rude to deny the hand offered to him. 

The person drew their eyebrows together. “Excuse me?” 

“It's just—” he started. 

“(Y/N)! We’re going to be late!” someone shouted from below them. 

The person—(Y/N)—let go of their hand and gave him a smile. “Sorry about crashing into you! You’re not hurt are you?” 

Lev’s eyes widened. “No,” he said as a bolt of pain coursed through his shoulder. 

“(Y/N)!” 

“Sorry again!” (Y/N) said and rushed past him. 

With his eyes, Lev followed (Y/N) down the stairs and to their friends waiting for them. They were all in the same variation of clothes that they were wearing, so (Y/N) must have to be a part of a club or team, he thought. 

“Lev? I thought you left?” Kenma asked, stepping out of the club room and snapping Lev out of his thoughts. 

“Yes! I did!” Lev said, rolling his shoulder back. 

Kenma tilted his head to the side and furrowed his eyebrows. “But you’re still here?” 

“Yeah…” he said, he pointed over the railing to the ground. “Someone crashed into me.” 

Kenma walked over to the railing and looked over the edge. He swallowed and nodded his head. “Okay...I’ll see you at after school practise. Don’t be late.” Then he walked off towards the school. 

Lev turned his head back to the direction he pointed to Kenma, only to find nothing there. His eyes blurred, so closed them and shook his head. 

Did he hit his head too?

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Class was particularly slow today. The teacher seemed to be saying the same things over and over again and the clock was definitely moving backwards. 

Lev placed his head down on his arms that were crossed onto the desk. He wished that the desks were a bit taller so that his back wouldn’t bend at the weird angle it took to place his head down. 

How was he going to make it through the day? Exhaustion that he experienced during morning practise usually followed him through the rest of the day until he went to sleep that night. He was strongly against morning practices. 

“Hey! (Y/N)! Wake up,” the person left to him said. 

He shot up at the sound of the name, but blinked in confusion as he looked around and didn’t recognize the classroom or the person sitting beside him. 

Where was he?

In front of him, a book was opened and written in a language he didn’t understand. He turned the cover over and read the title: _English Textbook Year Two._

Year two? But he was in year one? 

“(Y/N)?” the person beside him said. “Are you okay?” 

Lev nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m—” he raised his hand to his throat. His voice sounded different. Why did it sound different? And his fingers were soft, too soft. They didn’t have the wear or tear of volleyball. He was shorter too. Usually, he would tower over the person in front of him and had a clear view of the board, but now he was the same height as them and half of the board was blocked by heads. “Fine,” he squeaked. 

He was not _fine_ . Definitely _not fine._

The person placed a hand on his arm and shook it. “You’re missing the lesson.” 

Lev, eyes wide, nodded and picked up the pencil beside the opened book. 

There was _a lot_ that he was missing.

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

The morning only got worse. 

He stumbled through his—well, (Y/N)’s— morning classes and hoped that he never called on. Lev was a year younger than them, so he barely understood what was going on. He followed (Y/N)’s friend, Haru (or at least that’s what people called them), during the lessons while he tried to figure out what was happening. 

The one thing he knew for sure was that he was in (Y/N)’s body but the mind was his own.

Lev was right, (Y/N) was in a club, the dance club. Unfortunately, he found that out the hard way when Haru dragged him to the school’s dance studio (which he didn’t even know existed until then) during lunch and shoved him in the center of the floor despite his protests. 

He really wanted to find (Y/N). 

However, Haru was insistent that ‘(Y/N)’ help them with one of their routines for an upcoming performance that afternoon. Nervously, he nodded along. That afternoon? He had to switch back before then. Not only did he not want to embarrass (Y/N) with _his_ dance skills, he didn’t want to dance in general. 

He followed along with Haru during warm ups, and was lucky they were just stretching, but panic set in as soon as Haru asked him to dance to the routine with them so they could see it in full. 

“How about you going through it,” he said, “and I’ll point out things after?” He still wasn’t used to (Y/N)’s tone of voice. He tried to sound as confident as possible, but everything ended up sounding like a question. 

Thankfully, Haru agreed and went to turn on the music. 

They danced with flowyness and exact points and movements with their body. It was beautiful and he had no doubt that (Y/N) would be able to do it, but if he had to dance, he definitely felt like he was going to flail around more than he was going to dance. Especially if he needed to show Haru what to do. 

He groaned internally. It was going to be a long lunch… 

Unless… 

Cringing, he looked at the door and bolted out of it, ignoring Haru’s calls. 

_Please let me find (Y/N)._

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**(Y/N)’s DAY**

Your back hurt when you lifted your head off the table. 

Panic surged through you when you sat up fully and was a head taller than everyone else. Out of realization, you banged your knee against the top of the desk which resulted in a loud thud that caught the attention of the people around you. 

You gave—what hopefully was— a nervous smile and looked down into the book in front of you. 

Quickly surveying the place around you, you noticed that you were in a different classroom with people you couldn’t recognize. You looked down at yourself and repressed a shriek. The hands of the body you were in were rough and calloused and had long limbs. 

Worksheets were passed around the classroom. Once one landed on your desk, you picked it up carefully. You read the instructions and questions and recognized it from last year’s work. So, the person you were in was a first year. 

At least that was something. 

As you pretended to do the worksheet, you tried to recount your morning. After crashing into that person, you fell asleep at their desk and woke up here. You tapped the tip of your pencil on the desk and closed your eyes, trying to find the smaller details within your memories. The person definitely wore a club jacket, but you weren’t sure what team it was. The earliest time you’d be able to look for them was lunch and the latest time would have to be at the end of the day. 

All that mattered was that you found them before your performance this afternoon. 

The dance team spent weeks upon weeks putting together and practising this performance and you couldn’t let them down. 

You started bouncing a leg up and down to calm your nerves. How much longer was class going to be? Would you be able to find this person in time? Should they try the gymnasium first? Was the gymnasium even opened at lunch like the dance studio was?

Class dragged on, but you were counting down the minutes until lunch. The moment the bell rang, you packed up all of this person’s things and bolted out of the classroom. You stumbled at first, not used to the long legs and the big strides that came with them, but being a dancer made it a bit easier. You slowed yourself down and found the balance you needed and picked up your speed every couple of steps. 

You found out that the person you were in was named Lev and he was on the volleyball team. On your way to the gymnasium, you passed the other first year classroom’s and were immediately slapped on the back by others who told ‘Lev’ not to be late for volleyball practice.

Luckily, the gymnasiums were opened during lunch. You peaked into each of them to see if there were any volleyball players and sighed in relief when you saw the net set up in the second gym. 

A person with messy black hair stood at the far left of the gym and had a wide cart beside them filled with volleyballs. They picked up a volleyball from the cart and held it in their left hand. In one arching motion, the ball was in the air, over the net, and slammed onto the floor on the other side. 

“Lev!” The person said and waved over to you. “Are you here to practise? Your receiving could use some work from this morning. Go to the other side of the net!” 

You blinked. “Actually, I have—” 

“Come on,” they said, “if you do this one I’ll go easier on you during practice.” 

Slowly, you moved to the middle of the opposite side of the net and stood in the center, unsure what to do. 

Amused, the person moved into a crouching position and you copied them. The black-haired boy smirked and picked up another ball from the basket. He raised the ball out in front of him like before and balanced it in his hand for a second. 

In the same arching motion, he flung the ball into the air and sent it in your direction. You flinched away from it and heard as it hit the spot where you stood. 

On the other side of the net, the boy gave you a weird look. 

“Let’s try again, okay? I think you’re just a little tired from this morning.” 

You absentmindedly nodded your head and let your gaze pass over the door. You saw the flash of your bag charm pass the door. It only took that one second of distraction for the ball to go up in the air and collide with your face. You stumbled back and fell to the floor hard. 

“Lev!” 

It took you a couple of seconds to come back from being disoriented and you clumsily stood up on your feet and rushed to the door. You ignored the person calling Lev’s name and left him in the gymnasium. 

Maybe you should’ve listened to him because the moment you left the gym and turned the corner, you crashed into someone and fell on the floor for the second time that day. 

By the end of this, you were definitely going to have some type of head or back pain. 

You groaned. You looked to your side and saw yourself staring back at you. You closed your eyes and laid your head down on the concrete. 

You opened your eyes once more and focused them, ready to have a conversation with yourself about crashing into people. You blinked a couple of times and you were staring at Lev. You jumped up into a sitting position and checked yourself. You waved _your_ hands in front of your eyes and sighed in relief. 

Looking over to Lev. you noticed he was doing the same thing. 

“We have got to stop meeting like this.” 

Lev patted his hand to his chest and sighed. “I agree. I heard someone shout my name and I doubled back.” 

You laughed. “I saw my bag charm and got hit in the face with a volleyball.” 

Lev rubbed the side of his head. “Actually, I got hit in the head with a volleyball.” 

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” You held out your hand and gave a warm smile. You barely knew each other, but you already walked in the morning in his body, how hard could an introduction be? “I’m (Y/N).” 

Lev laughed and grabbed your hand tightly. “I’m Lev. Oh! You should probably explain to Haru why you ran out of the dance studio.” 

You smiled and shook your hand. “You should explain to the person inside there” —you pointed towards the gym— “why you got smack in the face with a volleyball. I’m pretty sure that the sport doesn’t involve flinching away from the ball.” 

With his hand still in yours, he helped you up from the ground. “Well, until we meet again?” 

“We definitely will.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**LEV’s DAY**

Lev watched you walk back to the dance studio. 

Maybe today wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Hello
> 
> I kind of want to write another part of this...one where they know who each other are and switch during something like a practise, game or performance. I think that would be cool. This kind of feels more like a beginning anyways….so I think I’m going to write another part…one where it might focus more on the reader as a dancer maybe?
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! - Kiwi
> 
> LMAO looking at our schedule, the second part won’t be out for a while so……...luckily it doesn’t have a cliffhanger klsdjf - Kiwi


	30. Howl - Kageyama Tobio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Werewolf  
> Revamp  
> Word Count: 3.4K+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

He could risk his life! What an idea.

Not too risky, though. That was just what he needed. An action that would push him higher in the rankings. A big self-sacrificing, ‘Hoorah!’ moment to seal the deal. The only problem is that there was currently nothing that would help him. Everything was peaceful.

The omega sighed as he stared at the castle he was meant to protect, envious of the wolf that would stay outside the chambers of the princess should a problem arise. He, whoever he was, would see her on a daily basis. Offering her guidance and protection. They were probably best friends with the princess. Did they have tea together, or go horseback riding on Sundays? Maybe they would do watercolour paintings while watching the sunset.

Kageyama slumped against the gate outside the castle. Listening to the never-ending chatter of the posh quests inside. The smell of pastries benign served was overbearing, but it couldn't begin to cover up the smell of roses. The scent that followed the princess around due to her growing them on her window sill. Ah, the princess. Kageyama tried not to slide down the wall as his legs began to weaken.

The princess was to be wed. To whom, no one knew yet. Princes, noblemen, and high standing men of law; all alpha males, arrived with their families in hopes they could win the heart of the King. Yes, the king, for it was his final decision on who would marry his daughter, and thus take away any opportunity Kageyama had to watch her water roses from the palace gates.

Kageyama studied the men that entered the castle. They wore bright colours, mostly royal blues and purples, likely hoping they'd catch the king’s eye. Their hair was either slicked back or scruffy and the clothing they wore was tight-fitting, showing off their superior build, fit for an alpha.

He looked at his own clothing that was made up of silver armour with red fabric to show he was a man of the castle, not royal. Kageyama wished the princess would be wearing the same colour even if it were in small portions. Anything that could connect the two somehow.

The celebration went on and the music played. Kageyama could hear the sound of their shoes tapping on the ballroom floor as the quests danced in circles. He could sleep soundly if the music were to lull him to sleep.

The gates of the castle closed once every guest had entered. Kageyama fastened the lock before leaning against the hard metal and allowing him to doze off, dreaming of the princess.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

(Y/N) sat upon her throne observing the guests that had arrived. A sea of blues and purples danced around the room, making mosaic-like waves. The constant twists and turns of the dancers made her look away, dizzy.

Men and women alike were showing off their abilities to transform. Ripping their beautifully made clothing in the process. One man, cocky as can be, strolled up to a competing group of alfas and morphed into his furry form.

The large size of him seemed to have grabbed the king’s attention, as the ruler strolled over and struck up a conversation with the nobleman. The man changed back, his blue clothes were ripped along every stitch but still managed to cling to his body.

(Y/N) stood up from her seat, patted down the off white dress she wore and walked to the room, away from the aggressive crowd. She nodded to her personal guard with a tankful smile as she pushed the door open. The room over wasn't in any better shape. It sported refreshments and music too. Men and women talked, danced around, ate food and competed. The royal heaved and walked further until she had made it to a secluded room. Her own room. Where the only sound coming from the party was the faint chatter of the guests a fair bit away.

"Finally," she sighed in content. "They were too loud."

She strolled over to the side of the room and sat on the window sill, playing with the rose petals. Her eyes trailed along the path that led out of the castle, wondering what would be on the other side of the stone wall at the village not too far away.

Her vision landed on a figure leaning on the gate, red colour showing he was a man under her authority. She stared down at him from the window curiously, before a loud crash resonated in one of the busy rooms.

"Too loud," She groaned, looking at the now torn petal between her fingertips that dyed her skin a bright red.

"But princess, if they weren't loud. They would hear you scream."

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

"Bring me the knight with a keen sense of smell."

The king sat at his throne trying to stay as calm as possible. His hands shook as he gripped the armrests of his golden seat. The party guests huddled together and looked around nervously. Some wailed in fear as others just shook and clung to another.

"I will not rest until my daughter is found."

The butler at his side gave the king a firm nod, handing off his work to another as he ran off in search of the head knight.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Kageyama turned over in his sleep, hitting his head against the stone wall. He groaned in pain before settling back in his awkward position. The knight’s quarters weren’t so bad. Although they were only meant for a temporary or single night stay. Kageyama should really look into his own space.

"Kageyama."

Kageyama turned over again giggling slightly at the voice, "oh, princess you flatter me."

"Kageyama," they said again, poking his scratched forehead.

"Stop it. That tickles." Kageyama laughed again.

"Sir Kageyama, wake up. The king wishes to speak to you." A fellow knight shook Kageyama by the shoulder attempting to wake him up.

Kageyama giggled again before bolting awake as if he had a nightmare. Looking to his comrade from the corner out of his eye he let out a low grumble.

"We will never speak of this again."

"Never planned on it."

Sighing, Kageyama stood up dusting off the dirt his uniform collected from laying in the dirt of the old bed. He let out a yawn before fully turning to the other knight. He began to attach the metal pieces of his armour together as he spoke.

"So," he yawned again. "What's the problem?"

Kageyama stretched as his friend fiddled with various parts of his uniform.

"The princess has been kidnapped sir. The king is in need of your assistance."

Kageyama froze mid stretch, eyes wide.

"Princess? Kidnapped?"

"Yes, the king wishes to speak with you," the knight nodded. Before the knight could do anything further, Kageyama had morphed into his omega form, ripping apart the cloth parts of his uniform in various places and sprinted in the direction of the throne room.

When Kageyama ran in he saw the people he let in earlier that night grouped together in the many corners of the circular throne room. Reversing his transformation and patting parts of his armour back in their rightful place, he approached the king.

At the steps in front of the king’s throne, Kageyama took a knee and lowered his head to the ground.

"You wished for my presence?" he asked.

The king nodded and sat straighter in his seat. Lifting his chin higher as he looked down at the low ranking knight. He was expecting more, Kageyama thought as he caught the motion in his peripheral vision. 

"I'm sure you've been informed of the predicament we have on our hands."

Kageyama nodded, keeping a straight face and not speaking a word.

"You have a strong nose, correct?"

Kageyama nodded again, not lifting his eyes from the king’s pristine shoes. Oh just thinking of the price of those made his stomach churn with jealousy. His stooped position before the king didn't stop others from staring at the interaction. The king and his knight, well not his per se, but Kageyama hoped that these onlookers thought highly of him for being requested directly. Even so, Kageyama could feel the worried stares of the party guests on his back.

"You must have known I ordered you here for a reason. You will lead the hunt to find the princess and her captor."

Kageyama ran plans through his head as soon as he was told. He breathed in, smelling the scent of the many people in the room and the food that was served to them. Oh he just wanted to take a bite. Refocusing, his mind drifted to a light smell of roses.

"Prepare in any way you need. The castles supplies should suffice—"

"No need." Kageyama interrupted. Noticing his mistake he apologized profusely and lifted his head.

"I've already gotten a trace of the princess's roses. If I were able to follow it, it should lead to the princess."

The king stared at Kageyama questionably and said, "My daughter has roses?"

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

"You won't get away with this."

(Y/N) sat tied up in the back of a carriage that was headed in any direction that wasn't toward her castle. The castle’s bright lights were visible but slowly falling behind the horizon as they got further away.

"Oh, but princess, I already have. Your kingdom hasn't had a proper hunter for decades. No one will be able to sniff you out. Your people are too... bland to have any specialties."

The princess grunted in disgust, "My people are peaceful and have no need for any strong abilities. They have them, but there is no need for their use. They are all too kind."

"All except one." the man said pointing to himself.

(Y/N) looked him in the eyes trying not to back down and sent a snarl his way. Her canines were delicate, having not been sharpened through labour like the knights of her kingdom.

"You are not one of my people."

Not scared at all and feigning a look of innocence, the man placed a hand on his chest. "Oh, princess you wound me. Think of all the times we had together."

"I'd rather not, thank you. Any memories we had together now only make me feel disgusted to have been in your presence for so long." (Y/N) looked outside of the carriage to see the never-ending woods.

"Oh, but dear (Y/N) you surely could never forget your favourite guard."

She huffed, grinding her teeth in the process as she tried to fight off tears. “You are the worst kind of person.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

"Hinata, slow down. We aren't going to the park, we're finding the princess."

Hinata ran toward a clearing after the deep forest. Sitting down in the middle of the road he took a deep breath.

"We've been searching for days! When will it end?!"

"When we find the princess. Now come on, the scent is much stronger now."

Hinata, despite his small stature, was a beta with incredible speed that was never utilized at his post. The two made an odd pair, never having the chance to interact with each other besides on the odd rotation when they were in their dorm at the same time. When the king had given Kageyama the choice of what resources he could need, the knight’s first thought was the hyper attacker.

“Over there.”

Coming up to what looked like a run-down village, the two knights snoop around in hopes that Kageyama would find the strengthening scent of the princesses roses.

Kageyama walked by multiple houses with Hinata until they arrived at the last door of the village.

The building was large and had greenery growing from any nook and cranny that was open. Pushing the door open, the two got into a predatory stance, morphing into their animal selves. Kageyama followed his nose up the steps and to an open door.

"What magic do these bonds have? I can't transform."

Princess.

"A spell from a local witch. She was willing to help with the right price. A debt I’ll have no struggle repaying with you here. Now what shall we start with? How about we go easy and take out your hair of yours."

The unfamiliar voice rang through the knight’s ears as he looked through the door. A man wearing a similar uniform to his own stood in front of a tied-up princess. Kageyama stared at her for a moment, taking in her beauty. Even tied up she's still beautiful.

When the princess noticed his presence however she made eye contact and tried to convey a message without words. It was fairly straight forward.

Help.

Pushing his way into the room and Hinata tailing behind him, Kageyama pounced onto the culprit and bit into the side on his shoulder.

The man screamed in pain and stepped away from the girl, toward the shattered window. Hinata morphed back normal and undid the rope holding (Y/N) hostage. He swung her onto his back running away as quickly as he could down the many levels to the exit to keep her safe.

Kageyama stared at the man in front of him and growled. The man laughed at the knight and bent down.

"Heya wolfie, wanna play?" he lifted up a piece of broken wood and bounced it in his hand before tossing it out the window. "Go fetch."

Noticing Kageyama’s unmoving form he sighed. "Not one for games huh, well let's do this then."

His body began to transform into an Alfa sized wolf that clawed at the ground, leaving marks on the stone floor. He was big, really big. Towering over Kageyama, making him look like a dog in comparison. A small, scared dog.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

"Don't worry princess. You're alright now."

Minutes passed as Hinata tried to call the now restless and worried royal. He gripped her shoulders gilding her through slow breaths that she just barely managed to gasp through. She was ragged and worn. Hinata tried to dust off her clothes while holding her still, but she shook and grasped at the open air, desperate to get to the door she was just pulled out from

"But he's in there and in danger. I need to save—'' A sudden crash of glass rang through the empty village and made (Y/N) shriek loudly before going deafly quiet. She held Hinata’s arm in a death grip. He turned around to face where the noise came from.

Staring at the door, the two held each other in hopes that both they and the knight inside were safe. When Kageyama limped through the broken door, armour ripped and dented in various places, (Y/N) couldn't help but let out a broken sigh through the relieved tears. She buried her scratched face into Hinata’s arm.

"My knight in shining armour."

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

"Report."

"He's gone, sir."

Hinata and Kageyama stood in front of the King, both on a knee. The princess was escorted to her chamber after trying to thank the knights again, the scent of roses following after her. That didn’t make it easy for Kageyama to pay attention to the king.

"Good. It's a shame though. Oikawa was a great knight. We trusted greatly, too greatly it seems," The king said as he rested against his seat, letting his chin droop as he looked at the two knights.

"You two are dismissed, but be up early tomorrow. I wish to speak with you further."

The knights nodded as they stood. A creak was heard from the door (Y/N) had previously left. No wonder Kageyama felt woozy, she hadn’t actually left.

"Father? May I speak to you?"

The king nodded and the knights were waved off, heading to rest in their rooms.

"Darling what is it?" the king asked, sending off the rest of the knights in the room with a wave of his hand. It went quiet for a few seconds after the last door closed until (Y/N) spoke up.

"Promote them. Both of them."

(Y/N) sat on her heels as she looked up at the king.

"They are two low ranking knights, omega and beta that have shown great bravery and deserve to be of higher level. Please, father, make them alphas in the knight rankings."

Her father leaned forward, placing a hand on her head.

"I'll do you one better."

(Y/N)’s brow furrowed as she hurried up to her room. Kicking her heels off at the door she patted her way to the windowsill. The roses looked a little sad, drained of energy. With a light huff, she quickly grabbed the small watering pail in the corner of the window, drizzling the small flowers. The front gate of the castle had a lone guard standing tall. It wasn’t the one she recognized. With a disappointed sigh, the princess set down the pale and dropped off the windowsill.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The next morning (Y/N) was dressed in a bright red dress that trailed behind her. She was escorted down to the main room where the thrones sat and rested next to her father in place of the queen.

"Are you prepared?"

"I'm not sure what to be prepared for."

The king laughed and the door of the castle opened with a flick of his hand.

"Everyone welcome. Please be seated. Our guests will be here soon." The crowd dispersed among the rows of chairs that had been set in positions.

"Guests? Father what gues—"

"Bring in the knights!"

The king sat back in his seat and asked a page that had been waiting for his sword.

"Father what are you—"

"Ah. The heroes of our kingdom. Please come forward."

(Y/N) turned her head to the side entrance where Hinata and Kageyama stood in royal armour. New armour and was clean and free of any dents or scratches with vibrant red under layers.

They made their way to the steps of the thrones and took a knee, shoulders touching. "When you said you needed to speak with us I didn't think there would be an audience," Hinata commented with a laugh.

The king laughed as well and stood from his seat holding his weapon tightly.

"You need to follow tradition. Such an event shouldn't go without the kingdom to watch." The king’s arms spread wide, gesturing to the people observing.

(Y/N) shook in her seat, afraid of what her father would do. Behead them? After such an act of bravery? Your father couldn't be that cruel.

"Heads down boys. This will be done properly."

Oh, he definitely could.

He raised his sword in the air high above his head. Light streaming through the window reflected off of the royal weapon sending beams of light in every direction. Without warning, his arms swung down taking the weapon with them, and towards the knights who had saved his daughter’s life.

"Father!"

The shining sword made contact with the knights and any light that had been absorbed into it was sent out in a gliding flash that everyone cowered away from.

Once it faded however, the people in the open room turned their heads to the scene.

Instead of what they thought would be a gruesome and bloody act, there were two large wolves bowing their heads to the panting king.

“Lord, I am not as young as I used to be,” he coughed.

The one smaller than the other, had orange specks throughout their scruffy mane, while the other was pure black and practically towered over the smaller. The king handed his sword back to his mage and took a step toward the wolves.

"Rest easy, knights."

Following his words the two wolves morphed back into the knights that wore the royal armour of the kingdom.

(Y/N), like the audience, had expected a horrific scene and hid away in her throne. Not looking at the new alphas of the kingdom's guard.

The king rested a shaking hand on Kageyama’s shoulder and patted slightly.

"That took too much energy. (Y/N) is shaken, I suggest you comfort her."

He began to walk for the exit before turning back around.

"She must be married soon. I expect you to follow my command and do so, you have my blessing."

And with that, the king left to rest. Leaving the safety of his daughter in the hands of a newly made alpha.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•


	31. For You, Black Petals - Oikawa Tooru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Hanahaki  
> Revamp  
> FEM! Reader  
> Word Count: 2.3K
> 
> Trigger Warning // Character Death

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

_It’s alright to love someone who does not love you back, as long as they're worth you loving them. As long as they deserve it._

_-Cassandra Clare_

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

When you woke up, you were drowned beneath flower petals. It got worse. They lined your pillow and fell in between the spaces beside your bed. How did it happen when you were sleeping? You guessed that unrequited love doesn’t stop even in your sleep. It stays with you. 

Every day when you woke up, you hoped that you wouldn’t see them. You hoped that you didn’t feel what you did. 

Just yesterday, the flowers were blood red. Now, they were black. The pressure in your chest grew every time you took a breath, the air you needed to live fed the flowers that killed you. You could tell it was nearing the end and if you were going to die soon then you had to see him one last time.

Slowly, you sat up on your bed and took deep breaths. It helped, but nothing could stop the pressure in your chest that led to nothing but flowers. A strong pull in your lungs bent you forward and a hard cough made black flower petals to fall from your mouth. 

It was getting more frequent. They started in high school when you first saw him. He was a second year volleyball player with light brown hair and a sweet smile on his lips. 

You knew from that moment that you were doomed.

Officially, you met Oikawa when he hit you with a volleyball and broke the school project that you spent two weeks making. After that, he offered to buy you lunch in repayment and talk to your teacher — who thankfully, allowed you to redo it. That lunch turned into another, which turned into another, which turned into another, and by the end of it, the two of you became close. 

Just not in the way you hoped. 

You’ve only heard random stories about the Hanahaki Disease, mystical rumours of family members and far away classmates getting it, and most of them got the cure right away at the request of their close family and friends.

The cure itself was simple. A surgery could easily remove all of the flowers that stemmed in the lungs and you’d be free. However, once you woke up, all of your romantic feelings, past, present or future, would be gone. 

Despite how it would save your life, you never understood how people could go through with it, get the surgery to live, but to never love again. 

You wouldn’t do it. You couldn’t live your life knowing that that part of yourself would be gone forever, that love would be replaced by emptiness. 

The coughing itself didn’t hurt as much as the first time it happened and now it was more like a numb feeling than actual pain. 

The coughing stopped gradually and you could finally breathe again, or at least the closest thing to it. You gathered all the flower petals from your bed and the ground and threw them in the garbage can. You dug through your nightstand drawer until you found your lighter. 

Over the years, you’ve gotten pretty good at hiding them. You’d wake up earlier than anyone in your family and dispose of them. No one could find out. 

You lowered your hand into the garbage can and set the flowers ablaze. 

If you were going to go up in flames, might as well bring them with you. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“(Y/N)!!” You turned around at the sound of your name. A happy Oikawa flung his arms across your shoulder and hugged you tightly. You decked your head hoping that he wouldn’t see your blush. “Where were you yesterday? You were supposed to meet me for lunch at the park. I texted you like 20 times.” 

“Sorry,” you lied. “My mom wanted me to help her out with something, so I turned off my phone. I forgot to call you.” 

Oikawa looked at you skeptically. Panic flooded your chest. Did he know? He had to know. He could see right through you. His eyebrows furrowed and a small frown found his lips. “Fine, but you are not skipping on me at lunch today. I forgive you only because it’s you.” 

You smiled and maintained it as you lied through your teeth and you recalled what you did with your mom to Oikawa. You told him that you had to help your mom pick flowers, which you thought was kind of funny in the saddest way. 

It was worse than the day before. You woke up violently coughing up flowers which woke your parents up. They found you lying on the floor with a trail of petals led from your bed to your mouth.

Your mom screamed when she saw them and immediately rushed over to you. Once the coughing stopped, she dragged you back to bed and begged you to get the surgery. 

_“Please, (Y/N), get the surgery. Please. I do not care who they are, you can’t die over them,” she begged._

_She was holding you in your bed as she cried._

_You shook your head. “I can’t.”_

_“Please. He isn’t worth you dying.”_

_“He is to me,” you said. “He is to me.”_

You sat there in silence as your mom kept begging you to get the surgery. You knew that she would have dragged you there herself, but the person getting the surgery had to be fully willing to get it and you clearly weren’t.

From that point on you tried to stop loving him for your mom, but even you couldn’t lie to yourself like that. Every day you whispered to yourself a monologue about how you were never going to be anything more than just friends and that you should just move on. However, it only made you sad to remind yourself about all the things you already knew and how it wasn’t going to change another. 

“Are you okay?” Oikawa asked as a concerned look flashed across his face. “You spaced out for a second.” 

You nodded. “I’m fine. I’ll meet you on the roof okay?” 

He grinned and linked his arms with yours. “Good. I’d be all alone if I didn’t have you.” 

“You have Iwaizumi.” 

“Yeah, but ever since he got a girlfriend he spends a lot of time with her. I’d be completely alone.”

“There are worse things...” you whispered. 

Oikawa peered closer to you. “What was that?” 

You shook your head and smiled. “Nothing. Let’s get to class.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You were waiting on the roof as promised. You heard the chatter from below you as you leaned over the edge of the roof. You couldn’t decide if it would be cool or terrifying to the people below you if they randomly saw flowers floating down from the sky if you coughed. 

Seeing Oikawa consistently during school helped with the flowers. It was like tricking your body into thinking that you actually had his love when you didn’t. You hadn’t coughed since last night and took that as a good sign. Maybe he was starting to love you back. 

“Ah! (Y/N), get away from the ledge. It’s dangerous,” you heard Oikawa shout. He quickly came behind you and pulled you back from the ledge. 

“What?” you said crossing your arms, “it’s not like I was going to jump or anything. It’s funny when it looks like people are five times smaller than you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “It’s just dangerous okay? I don’t want my friend to accidentally fall down and die.” 

You had to fight the urge to cringe at the word. You didn’t need another reminder that you aren’t going to be anything more than just friends with him, especially from Oikawa himself.

“Are you okay?” Oikawa asked. He was already sitting on the ground, his bento box in front of him. “You keep spacing out.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

You took off your backpack and sat down in front of him, taking out your own bento. The two of you ate in silence. The only sound was coming from below you where students were scrambling to find seats in the courtyard. 

After you finished your meal, both you and Oikawa put your things away and laid down facing the clear sky. 

“What are you thinking now?” Oikawa asked, pushing out his hand to cover the sun from his eyes. 

The sun was directly over you, but it didn’t bother you. “The sky is blue, and the sun is shining.” 

_And you’re never going to love me like I love you._

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Oikawa was walking home after practice. His school bag and gym bag weighed down on his shoulders. He turned the corner to his house and saw a person pacing on it. Their back was facing him so he couldn’t make out who they could be. They didn’t have a big build, so he could definitely take them if they decided to attack. 

He walked up slowly to his door, making his footsteps loud so that the person could hear him coming. The person turned their head towards Oikawa and stopped pacing.

Oikawa stopped in front of her. She looked like an older version of you, but there were worry lines around and redness around her eyes. 

“Oikawa?” she asked, her hand covering her mouth as if she was trying to stop herself from crying. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded. 

“You’re friends with my daughter, right? The one who plays volleyball?” 

He nodded again. 

The woman dropped to her knees and took Oikawa’s hands into her own. Oikawa widened his eyes in alarm and dropped to his knees too. “Are you already?”

“Please tell my daughter to get the surgery. I...I can’t lose her especially from the same disease that took my sister. (Y/N) needs the surgery,” she cried, tears falling from her face onto Oikawa’s hands. “She won’t let me take her. She refuses to take the surgery, and it got really bad. The flowers turned black.” 

“Wait, (Y/N)’s sick?” Oikawa croaked. 

“You didn’t know?” she wiped her tears with her shirt. “She has Hanahaki.” 

Oikawa forze. “What? Who?” 

The woman wiped her hand across her cheek and looked up to meet Oikawa’s eyes. She blinked and then shook her head. “For you.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You made your way slowly to the park, taking breaks every few blocks.

It was getting harder to breathe. Every step you took, made you take another breath, one you didn’t have, and with every breath you could feel more flowers grow in your lungs, blocking your airway. 

_One more step,_ you told yourself, _one more step to see him._

Eventually, you made it to the park where the cherry blossoms were. You saw Oikawa standing in the middle of the path. The sun had just come up and there wasn’t a cloud in sight, it was a beautiful day. The mixture of light pink and white blossom petals decorated the ground, but the trees that were over your head were still full of petals.

Once you stepped closer, you noticed the look on his face. His eyes were drooping, and his lips were pursed into a frown. You tilted your head to the side but still waved to him. 

Then you felt it. 

There was a sharp pressure in your chest, and you couldn't breathe. Your knees buckled from under you and you braced yourself with your hands so you didn’t completely fall over. 

You started coughing. 

The black rose petals stood out between the colours of pink and white. There was something different about the petals. Still black, wilted, but covered with fresh deep red blood. You put your hand to your mouth and when you drew it back it was saturated with the deep red. You stared at it as your hand shook. 

“(Y/N)!” Oikawa shouted. He was by your side within seconds.

You coughed again and more blood mixed with petals fell out of your mouth. 

He pulled out his phone to call an ambulance, but was stopped short by your hand. You gently pushed his hand down. 

“Stop it!” He shouted at you and winced back his hand. “You need to have the surgery. I don’t care if you never feel anything for me again. I don’t want you to die, I can’t let you die.” 

The pressure on your chest grew as you spoke, but he needed to hear the words even if it would kill you. “I’m not getting the surgery,” you wheezed, “I love you too much.” 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Oikawa started, but the words slowly died in his mouth. If you had really let the flowers grow this much, could anything he said make you change your mind? Wouldn’t you have done it already? He knew you. Your stubbornness came to the undying need to never stop loving and he hated you for that. 

He hated you. 

“I wish you told me,” he whispered. You laid in his arms, savouring the moment. Flowers came up once in a while, but your breaths were short and uneven. “I don’t know why this is happening. How could I not see this was happening? I care about you so much, that should be enough.” 

You shook your head. Your words were breathy and broken, as you said, “you don’t love me the way I love you. I can’t force you to love me. That’s not how it works.” 

“You should have told me,” he repeated. “I would have loved you. I would’ve loved you the same way, maybe even more.” 

You smiled slightly and shook your head, your breaths getting shorter. “It’s okay.” 

Oikawa closed his eyes, tears spilling out of his eyes. Your eyes started to close too. He could feel you letting go. 

The wind changed and more cherry blossom petals fell to the floor, covering the black roses and blowing them away. 

“It’s a beautiful day,” you whispered, with your last heartbeat. 

Oikawa nodded, biting his lip. “The sky is blue, and the sun is shining. It’s a beautiful day.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side Note: The one that have revamp on them are our old edited ones that are posted sporadically and new ones are posted regularly (kind of) on Fridays. If it's not on Friday, then it's on the weekend - Kiwi


	32. Notes in Tandem - Nishinoya Yuu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Mute Reader  
> Requested  
> GN! Reader  
> Word Count: 2.5k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Nishinoya’s world was limited to the homes of his family and friends, his classrooms, and any park or gym he could find within a five-kilometre radius. To say that he had a one-track mind would be an understatement as seen by the way he would run through places without a care for who he passed or the rooms he ignored. All that was ever on his mind was what he’s doing now and where he’s going next. So the moment he found himself lost in the halls of his high school after classes had finished, Nishinoya was as perplexed, as if he had been given a puzzle without any edge pieces. Then again, it was a new school, he was bound to get lost.

He could admit, following the sound of a lone piano in a large building on your own might not always be the best plan. Or maybe it’s always the best plan, he was looking for people after all. Nishinoya pushed forward. 

The notes from the piano seemed to dance around his head in a dizzying blur. They bounced off the walls before making their way into Nishinoya’s ears. Each time a new chord was played he considered turning around, thinking the sound came from the other direction. He groaned and dragged his feet as he walked.

It wasn’t until he heard the sound of people speaking that he confirmed the location of the volleyball club meeting. The art hall. Or maybe not. He paused as he took the first few steps into the building’s wing that branched off from the main floors toward the back of the school near the auditorium. With a furrowed brow he looked down the hallways he stood between, regretting not taking the school tour.

Opening the door to the music room, Nishonya was greeted with the muffled murmurs of people not far away and an empty room. Mostly empty. Away from the bustle of club students, in the corner of the room was an old piano whose keys were getting pushed in a dizzying melodic way. Nishinoya patted his way over with gentle steps.

“Hello?” he asked as he placed a hand on the curved edge of the large instrument.

A wrong key was hit, making the music turn sour suddenly. With your shoulders raised and hands held tensely over the black and white keys. Your face scrunched together as you looked up at the boy that had interrupted your playing before shooting your nearest arm out to smack his side. 

“Hey, that hurt! No need to beat up the new students, eh?” he whined as he rubbed his hip gently. He looked back at your sitting form as your finger flipped over the pages that sat on the piano’s stand. “Uh, do you know where the volleyball team is meeting? I’m running a bit late.”

Looking up you lifted from your seat and walked a couple of steps to the large windows that made the school’s yard visible through the wall. The light from the evening sun bounced off your uniforms shoulders as you looked out of the glass. From the opposite side of the piano, Nishinoya could see the field and buildings surrounding it that you pointed to. The gyms.

Making his way around the large instrument, Nishinoya stared out the window to the gym’s doors to see a short-haired blonde boy with a hunched posture lumber in through the metal double doors. His eyes widened, taking sight of his maroon gym clothes and the black jackets of upperclassmen who stood inside the building. One of which looked up from the first year to wave in your direction. You waved back, smiling, before pointing to Noya, making him jump back a bit. The older boy nodded and sent you a thumbs up through the window.

The silent conversation through the glass ended as you made your way back to your plush bench. Nishinoya’s gaze jumped back and forth between you and the other student. The older boy, with short dark brown hair, yelled through the window with a large swing of his arm.

“Hurry up or you’re gonna be late!” it was muffled, but Nishinoya understood. Sending you a loud thank you, which made you flinch slightly, he ran out of the room and music hall towards the gym.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Sawamura, who had been the one to wave at him through the window, later asked how Nishinoya got lost enough to end up in the arts wing. To which he admitted not taking a tour and not paying attention during orientation. The second years only laughed as they worked with the new first years to pack up the gym. The third years stood off to the side in a meeting with the club administrator and the grumpy looking coach.

“Well, at least you ran into (L/N) and not one of the visual arts students. They would’ve accused you of stealing supplies,” Sugawara said, tossing a stay ball into the blue basket.

“Are they really that mean? Good to know,” Tanaka laughed. He stood on a step ladder, swinging his leg as he untied the strings to the net. 

Azumane rushed over and held the steps still, worried that he’d tumble off with the momentum of his loose leg. He shuddered, “(L/N)’s really nice actually, so you lucked out Nishinoya. The art club is scary.”

As Nishinoya left the gym that day he was greeted by the gentle sway of the song you played. He paused for a moment, enjoying the sound of your hands caught in a waltz, just soaking in the synchronized duet that poured through the glass that separated you. Looking in he noticed your eyes were closed and you let your torso swing with every dragging note.

“Eh! Don’t get caught up on anybody just yet, Noya! Us bros need to stick together first!” Tanaka barreled into Nishinoya’s side, wrapping an arm around the shorter’s neck and attempting to ruffle his spiked black hair, only for it to pop back into place. Nishinoya laughed boisterously, joining Tanaka in terrorizing their new clubmates.

Thoroughly distracted by his friends, Nishinoya didn’t notice when your song ended and that your eyes followed him as he walked towards the school gate.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Nishinoya, in the small window of time allocated for students to leave the school ground or make their way to their club activities, found himself following the somewhat haunting sound of your playing. Again. As he has been for the past couple weeks, just to listen to you play. This time, though, he hoped to capture your attention away from those distracting keys.

Peering in through the doorway, Nishinoya sent you a sheepish smile and waved. “Hi, (L/N). I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Looking up to the door where he stood, you sent him a kind smile and shook your head. Taking your hands off the ivory keys you reached for the sheet music, you waved him in.

“So,” he dragged, taking exaggerated strides to meet your side, leaning against the old grand pianos curved side and dropping his bag beside him. “How was your day?” 

Pursing your lip, you lifted your hand off the loose pages in front of you before bringing both your hands down onto the keys. The chord that played danced through the air like a happy ballerina before falling off the stage. Nishinoya smiled awkwardly, crossing his arms before spinning to lean back against the large piano. “You could give me a response you know,” he said, pouting like a child. He wondered if that’s how you viewed the first years with your silent disposition, childish.

He could hear your push out air from your lungs in a disgruntled puff before the flapping sounds of paper covered it. Nishinoya waited for you to speak. He wanted to hear your voice rattle into his ear about your new classes, or sing tunes like the ones you played, or even pour your emotions out in exaggerated poetry which he was certain you had a talent in. The sound never came, instead, a single piano sheet with a black side was shoved into his face, very nearly scratching his nose. He flinched back.

“Watch it,” He scolded as he took the sheet from your hand with a slight yank.

_I can’t speak, you dunce._

When he turned to look at you, you laughed. But despite your large movement, clutching your stomach as your shoulders shook, no sound matching it came from your mouth. His eyes were blown wide, the thin brows were pushing up toward his hairline, and his mouth was held in a stiff, open pout. His hand clutched the paper tightly, making it crinkle and nearly tear. Giving him a teasing smile, your fingers shifted and played a dark, minor-chord. You looked at him in dramatized fear before laughing, again with no sound.

“You can’t speak?”

Without saying a word, not that you could even if you tried, your head tilted back and your hand trailed up to the thin scar that ran down the centre of your jugular. Nishinoya leaned in closer, placing a hand on the piano to keep his balance, and inspected the scar. His other hand that still held the sheet of paper came up to his chest before handing the page back to you.

“What happened?”

Pulling the sheet out of his hand you shifted to the edge on the plush bench, patting the open space next to you. Nishinoya watched as the words on the page appeared as you willed the ink to fall in a specific pattern.

_I had a tumour. Had to get it removed._

Nishinoya read the words carefully, not fully absorbing it all at first glance. 

“Are you okay now?”

This time the keys you played on the piano were sweet and gentle. They smoothly glided over the sound of people talking outside between the window and the gyms. Nishinoya glanced back up to your gleaming smile, trying to give you one of his own that matched. He just couldn’t seem to make it happen.

He could hear his heart pound in his ear like thunder rolling off of the horizon. He gulped.

With a start, Nishinoya shot off of the piano. He snatched his bag off the floor and darted out of the room. A non-committal ‘see you’ was shot into the air that he ran through. He was gone faster than you could reach out to pull him back. And in a matter of seconds, you were back to sitting alone in the large music room just like before.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Noya you don’t need to freak out over this, things happen,” Sawamura said, running alongside the first year. “(L/N)’s really nice. I’m sure if you just explain, everything will be fine.”

Nishinoya huffed. Trying to pick up his heels from the gym floor as their coach yapped at them to push harder. His legs hurt and his shoes kept making high pitched squeaks that drilled into his already throbbing skull. He glanced quickly over his shoulder to the other 1st years. They didn’t seem to be faring any better.

“Maybe, but like. Ugh, I don’t know! What do I even have to explain? I just ran out of there for no reason,” he wailed pulling at the roots of his hair. “How do you talk to someone who can’t speak? How do you make that connection?”

“Noya, talking isn’t the only way to communicate,” Sugawara sighed from behind the pair, running next to Tanaka who yelled sloppy words of encouragement to the others. “You’ve managed this long, what’s changed?”

Nishinoya panted, letting his arms fall to his sides again. He said, “I don’t know. I just thought (L/N) was focused on the piano and preferred to just listen or something.”

“Noya, (L/N) may not be able to speak like everyone else. But have you tried listening? Maybe you can expand your horizons,” Azumane prompted kindly. 

Before Nishinoya had the chance to open his mouth to reply, their withered coach, Ukai, called them all from their warm up runs to start practicing. Effectively killing the conversation there. No longer brought up for the rest of the practice, which only made Nishinoya’s headache worsen and forced the songs that replayed in his mind play a little flat.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

It took a few days. The next time Nishinoya saw you was when he had jogged to Karasuno’s front gates early in the morning to see you take a ninety-degree turn into the school property. The wind blew harshly through the trees that liked the perimeter walls. Nishinoya could see you pull your jacket closer as the air ran over your shoulders in large gusts. 

He stilled his jog once he reached the gate, watching you walk to the school’s main doors. Biting his lip he looked in the direction of the gyms, where Tanaka was no doubt waiting for him before morning practise started. His lungs filled with cold air as he set off, following your footsteps inside.

From outside the art hallway, your music was so soft that it was barely audible. As Nishinoya made his way close to the music door he could hear your song slowly grow louder. The melancholic turn seemed to dig its way into his chest and he desperately tried desperately not to scream your name through the wooden door.

Making his way inside, Nishinoya watched as your head bobbled from side to side, falling with each accented note and chord, feeling the music with your eyes shut. When your head tilted back he could see the thin scar that trailed down to the centre of your collarbone. 

Slowly, as the last note trailed off to no longer fill the empty space between in the room, your eyes opened. He stayed near the door, aware of the fact that you had yet to notice his presence. Taking in one last breath, Nishnoya stepped forward.

“(L/N)?”

When your eyes met he was scared to see anything less than the thoughtful eyes he knew. But the sweet smile that pulled at the corners of your lips proved that his worries were unfounded. You shifted on your bench, inviting him to sit on the other side of the plush seat.

Your hand lifted to play a single key on the board as Nishinoya made home next to you. He watched your hand, waiting for it to move, before shifting his gaze back up to meet yours. With your free hand, you prompted him toward another key, using his finger to push down on it. With the hand that rested on top of his, you gilded him to play more notes on repeat. 

Once he was in a pattern, you lifted both of your hands and pressed your fingertips gently into more chords. Nishinoya let his body sway to the music. Waving his body over to nudge your shoulder. Instead of retaliating, you let out a quiet chuckle and let your head fall to his shoulder.

He never did make it to that morning practice.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so bad because I have this itch telling me that I could’ve done so much better than this…. - Bacon
> 
> Nah! It’s great!!! - Kiwi
> 
> :) Kiwi is my number one supporter - Bacon
> 
> Of course! - Kiwi


	33. The Language of Flowers Pt.1- Tsukishima Kei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Gang/ Organized Crime  
> Requested  
> FEM! Reader  
> Word Count: 3.7k +

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

The attacks on the Miyagi Prefecture gave Tsukishima a headache. How come the people who wanted the Karasuno gang gone couldn’t have gone straight for the leader — Tsukishima himself— and get it over with? Instead, they decided to make life difficult and do it slowly, set fire to public centres to send a message and rob unsuspecting businesses while people slept. The worst of it began within the past weeks. Pedestrians were being attacked by unidentifiable people all over the prefecture, ranging from scratches from defending off the attacker to stab and mild gunshot wounds. 

Tsukishima spent hours upon hours trying to figure out who they were and where they came from. Once he became the leader of Karasuno, he promised protection to everyone in the prefecture and it took a long time to gain that type of trust. He wasn’t going to lose it all now because someone didn’t know it was wrong to stab others. 

The sky turned dark as he walked along the storefronts of near-empty streets. Danger always lurked around the corner, so he was advised by the Karasuno members to stay within the walls of the Headquarters to prevent any attempts at his life. But he believed that if they wanted him dead they would have killed him already. The attacks on the prefecture were a part of something else, something he couldn’t see yet. Living in fear on his own streets wasn’t something he planned to do. Not to mention, killing Tsukishima would only start another war, not end the one they were currently in. 

He needed to clear his mind and walking around made him see all the reasons he needed to put an end to this person or group. Karasuno had been his family for a while now. He grew bonds and attachments with the people he was technically the boss of and never regretted a minute of it; however, a feeling of loneliness always followed him around. 

Tsukishima saw the relationships between all of the Karasuno members, how everyone was connected and what they were fighting for. That’s when he realized that they were all fighting _for someone_ instead of the attachments he fought for: the streets, parks, buildings, and the people...that he didn’t know well enough and who barely knew him. Mostly, he was fighting for himself.

Hinata joined to keep his little sister safe. Nishinoya joined to keep his grandparents safe during their retirement. Azumane wanted to protect his parents, which brought along Sugawara who joined with Azumane (probably to keep him safe in this line of business) and then Sawamura joined after for the same reasons that Sugawara did. 

But Tsukishima? He didn’t have anyone to fight for, someone he wanted to make feel secure and safe. 

A scream brought him out of his thoughts. 

He rushed towards the sound. Underneath the light of a street lamp, he saw a girl holding her hands up in a defensive position, blood ran down her arm starting at the palm of her hand. A masked man stood over her, a knife in one hand and the other tightly pressed to his nose. He stood shaky and hesitant a little away from her, as if he was afraid of what he’d just done. 

Tsukishima came up behind the man, roughly grabbed his wrist, that held the knife, and yanked him backwards. The man flinched at the contact and stumbled back, landing on his butt. Blood dripped from the lower face of his mask and on to the ground. 

Tsukishima glared at him, but his gaze softened ever so slightly when he met the man’s— more like boy’s — watery eyes. The boy must have been younger than him. He didn’t have the age of time around that plagued most experienced killers. It even haunted Tsukishima when he took lives, their ghosts followed him around. The boy’s eyes were laced with fear. He looked like a kicked puppy who already spent the night in the dog house. 

The boy scrambled back at the sight of Tsukishima, his hands scraped against the concrete floor leaving a trail of blood. He knew who Tsukishima was and was clearly scared of that. He stumbled on to his feet and bolted down the street, forgetting the attack entirely.

Tsukishima hesitated. It wouldn’t take him long to catch up to the boy. He could finally put an end to the streams of attacks in the prefecture, but there were more important things to think about, like the person behind him that just got cut with a knife. There was no doubt in his mind that he would find the attacker again. 

With a shake of his hand, Tsukishima turned to the person behind him. She was standing under the street light, leaning against its pole. She was cradling her hand that had been cut, drops of blood fell from it and landed the pavement. The sleeves of her arm were coloured a dark red as well. 

“Take off your scarf,” he said, taking long strides to reach her. “I’ll wrap it around your hand to stop the bleeding. 

“Thanks,” she whispered as she unwrapped the scarf from her neck. 

He gave her a small smile, the best one that he could muster at the moment. He was trying to get into the habit of smiling, especially to innocent people who he didn’t know and didn’t know him. Besides, he needed Hinata to stop telling him to smile more because he looked ‘scary’ and ‘unwelcoming’ when he didn’t. 

Tsukishima nodded and gestured to her hand. “May I?” 

She placed her hand palm up in his and handed him her scarf. Tsukishima uncurled her finger to get a better look. “Sorry,” he said when he saw her flinch at the movement. 

The cut wasn’t deep, but it was long, so it would need stitches and it had tiny pieces of debris from the uncleaned street. He looked up and immediately looked back down when he saw that her eyes were already on him. Tsukishima released her hand and tightly wrapped her hand in the scarf, apologizing every time he saw her flinch in pain.

He cleared his throat and took a step away from her. “Good news, it looks like you’ll live.” 

She laughed and broke into a nervous smile. “Thanks.” 

“But there are some tiny rocks and stuff from the sidewalk in and around it that could lead to an infection,” he said. “You’ll probably need stitches.” 

The girl froze. 

Tsukishima furrowed his eyebrows. “Is there something wrong?” 

“I just...I don’t like hospitals,” she murmured, scrunching her nose. 

His mind blanked. “I, uhh, I know someone who can do it… If you want I can call them and they can do it for you. If you have disinfectant and gauze somewhere you're comfortable then we can do it there.” 

She was silent for a moment, tugging lightly on her ear with her other hand. He could see the redness of her knuckles under the streetlight, confirming his suspicion that she punched the attacker. “Are you sure? It’s late and I don’t want to disturb anyone…,” she said. 

“It’s fine. They don’t sleep early.” 

“ _Can_ they do it? Like, do they have a medical license?” 

He nodded. “He does.” He raised a hand to his head and pushed back the hair covering his left forehead. A faint scar trailed along the bottom of his hairline. He’d gotten it at a meeting that went badly and ended with punches being thrown. “He gave me a couple of stitches last year.” 

She thought for another moment and let out a breath of air. “Then yes, please. Thank you again…” 

She paused for another second. He glanced up and saw the expectancy in her eyes. She was fishing for his name. Names were tricky. Names had power, one he didn’t like to place in just anyone’s hands. If the wrong person had your name, it was as good as a death sentence. But she didn’t seem threatening in the way that could harm Karasuno. 

He found that most members of gangs had a specific look in their eyes: hunger. The hunger of the fight. Every member had it, and if they didn’t, then they developed it. He got really good at seeing it; the distinct look that haunted him in the mirror every day. 

In her eyes, he read nothing but kindness. But he’d been wrong before. 

He must have taken too long to answer because the girl spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m (Y/N), but you don’t have to tell me your name if you don’t want to. It’s okay.” 

The invisible tension in Tsukishima’s shoulders vanished. It wasn’t like he was a phantom in the prefecture, some people did know his name and what he looked like, so why could he just say it? He ignored the pang of disappointment and idiocy he felt in himself missing the chance. 

“I can’t really complain,” she continued. “I don’t really know what would’ve happened if you didn’t show up…” 

He shrugged. “It looked like you were doing okay...you punched him in the nose didn’t you?” 

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? How did you know?” 

“Do you live far?” he asked, ignoring her question for now. He didn’t like how long the two of you were standing out in the open, especially with the opened cut on her hand. “I could walk you home if you want.” 

She picked up her fallen bag that was on the floor and did a quick check to see if anything was missing. _Random robber?_ Tsukishima thought. _Or a part of the string of attacks?_ “Two blocks from here,” she said. “And I would like that.” 

“What’s your address? I’ll text it to my friend so that he could meet us there.”

Tsukishima followed her lead as they took off up the street. He shot a quick text to Sugawara — who was, thankfully, still awake and answered almost immediately— and rattled off (Y/N)’s address, not forgetting to mention bringing the stitches supply from Headquarters. He kept his eyes open in case the boy decided to stupidly try again, but something told him that the attacker wouldn’t. “His eyes were watery.” 

“What?” 

“That’s how I knew,” he justified and cleared his throat, “that you punched him. The person’s eyes were watery and his mask was bloody.” 

“Oh,” (Y/N) said. She raised the uncut hand. The moonlight wasn’t the best, but from what he saw from under the streetlight and his first-hand knowledge of punching someone in the face, he assumed that new bruises were forming along her knuckles. “Recommendations?” 

Tsukishima wanted to reach out for her hand again but decided against it. “Ice. And your wrist is probably going to hurt for a bit.” 

She lowered her hand. “Okay.” 

The rest of the short walk was spent in silence. He paused when they stopped at the storefront of a flower shop. “Do you live here?” 

(Y/N) tentatively searched for keys in her bag and nodded. “Above it. I run the shop too.” 

“So, you like flowers?” 

She laughed and turned the key in the lock. “I wouldn’t run the store if I didn’t like them.” 

He pushed up his glasses and said, “Right.” 

She let him enter first. He stepped into the shop and the smell of flowers and dirt surrounded him before his eyes could match the sight. The warmth in the air made him feel at ease and welcomed like he had all the time in the world and he wanted to spend it here. 

When the light turned on, he suppressed a smile at the sight of them. The flowers came in every shape and size and every colour he could think of and more. They lined the walls on shelves and sat on tables that took up the main floor. All of them were laid out specifically for browsing and hand name tags in front of them. 

Tsukishima had never been one for flowers, but he could get used to them. 

Turning his head, Tsukishima saw (Y/N) emerge from the back room. Clutched in between her elbow and chest was a first aid box. She set it down on the table and waved him over. 

“Hey, do you think you could help me clean it before your friend gets here? I don’t want to hold up too much of their time.” She raised up her cut hand. (Y/N) had taken the scarf off of it. “It’s my dominant hand and I don’t really trust my other one to not injure me further.” 

He nodded, sat down across from her, opened the first aid box, and grabbed the tweezers. (Y/N) held out her hand again, spreading the palm wide and winced in the process. Cautiously, Tsukishima took out all of the tiny pieces of gravel and twigs that he could see. 

“Go, umm, get a washcloth and soak it underwater with some soap and clean around the cut. You should wash the extra blood off your arm too,” he said, putting down the tweezers and reached for the gauze and alcohol to lay them out for Sugawara. “Don’t get any soap in the cut.” 

(Y/N) sprang up from her chair, “Okay,” she said, and headed off somewhere in the back. 

He could easily do it himself but he needed a moment. As he heard the water running, Tsukishima closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. 

_What the fuck am I doing?_

He needed to go back to Karasuno headquarters and ask someone to shoot him. Maybe the pain will help him reset his mind. 

“Are you a doctor?” (Y/N) asked. Sitting back down on her chair. The sight of her arm and hand without blood on it lifted a weight off of his chest. Real blood washes off, unlike the invisible blood that permanently stained his hands. He was suddenly ashamed of it and didn’t want (Y/N) to know. 

_She literally creates life. How would she react to someone who takes them?_

“What?” 

“Your friend has a medical license,” she said, putting her palm face-up on the table. “You clearly know about how to treat cuts, so are you doctors or something?” 

Tsukishima choked down a laugh. They were definitely _not_ doctors. He played it off with a smile and a shake of his head. “I’m not, but my friend kind of is? He has his license, did all the school, but he mostly does… private work.” 

There was a knock on the glass door. The familiar grey head of hair stood on the other side of the door, a curious look on his face. Tsukishima had no doubt that Sugawara was going to tell everyone what happened tonight as soon as they returned to Headquarters and went their separate ways; Tsukishima to his office and Sugawara to the common room. He held an all too familiar box that housed their medical supplies in his other hand. 

“Is that your friend?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Yes.” 

She waved him in. 

Sugawara opened the door and walked over to them, placing the box on the table they sat at. He nodded once at Tsukishima and smiled at (Y/N). “Hello! So, who’s injured?” 

Tsukishima knew that he was just asking for courtesy. They both knew that if Tsukishima was hurt he would’ve been with other Karasuno members or followed the protocols set in place. 

Tsukishima pointed to (Y/N). “Her hand.” 

Holding out her hand to Sugawara, (Y/N) said, “Thank you for coming. I hope I didn’t bother your night.” 

Sugawara smiled. “Not at all! Now, let’s see that hand.” He took her hand in his and brought it closer to him. “Did you clean it?” 

(Y/N) nodded. “Only a little,” she said and then jutted her head towards Tsukishima. “He took out the pieces of debris and I washed off the blood, but we haven’t disinfected it yet.” 

Sugawara smirked and opened the bottle of alcohol. “Did he now?” 

Tsukishima glared at him. 

“Hopefully he did a good job,” she replied, oblivious to the silent mocking from Sugawara. 

His smirk grew bigger. “It looks good.” He splashed some of the alcohol onto a clean piece of gauze and took her hand again. “This is going to hurt, but the stitches will hurt less.” 

(Y/N) shut her eyes tightly as Sugawara began to clean the wound. The cleaning was always the most painful part. It burned like hell. 

Once the worst of it was over, she turned her attention back on Tsukishima. “So what do you do?” 

He blanched. “For a living?” 

Sugawara snickered as he finished cleaning the wound. He discarded the bloody piece of cloth and picked up a needle and thread a string through it. 

“Is it embarrassing?” (Y/N) asked, noting Sugawara’s sudden amusement. 

“I work in...finance,” Tsukishima said hastily. “And private security.” 

“Sure you do,” Sugawara mumbled. 

“What was that?” she asked. 

“Nothing,” Sugawara said. “Let’s get started.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

(Y/N) opened and closed her hand slowly, taking in the full effect of the stitches in her palm. She secured a piece of gauze and shivered. “They look creepy.” 

“Sorry,” Sugawara replied, packing up the supplies. “I can’t do much about that. Your hand might be out of commission for a little bit. And you work with flowers, right? Keep the gauze on and change it at least daily. If it gets dirty or you need to wash your hands or something, clean it and then put another gauze on. Take some pain killers too if you need them. I’ll come back in a week-ish to take them out. Oh! And ice your other hand.” 

Nodding, (Y/N) stood up and switched her gaze between the two boys. “Thank you so much. Is there anything I can do to say thank you more?” 

Tsukishima tucked his hand into his jacket pocket. “Try not to get hurt again.” 

The corners of (Y/N)’s lips curled upwards. “I’ll do my best.” 

Sugawara looked between the two, blinking in confusion. He nudged Tsukishima in the stomach. “Ride home?” he asked and gestured to the door. 

Tsukishima nodded and turned to the door. He only got a few steps in when he was pulled back by a tug on his sleeve and a slight murmur saying, “Wait a second”. He fought the urge to pull back and prepare for a fight. Many people knew not to grab gang leaders suddenly or you’ll end up in pain. Unless it was on purpose, then that would open an entirely new kind of stupid. But he knew that there were only two people near him and neither would do anything like that. 

At least he hoped so. But (Y/N) could just be a nice person. The world was short on them and Tsukishima hasn’t met many. 

Sugawara was already at the door and waved at (Y/N). “I’ll be in the car. It’s just outside.” 

“Thank you again!” (Y/N) shouted. 

“Did you need something?” he asked, turning back to her.

“Wait right here,” she said, holding out her hand in front of her to reinforce her message. A small smile played on her lips and her eyes lit up. “Don’t move.” 

She rushed into the back room and came out a few moments later with her hands behind her back. 

“I’m not going to close my eyes,” Tsukishima said quickly. 

(Y/N) frowned. “You’re no fun.” 

Tsukishima shrugged, a light smile forming on his own lips. He hasn’t smiled this much since he was just a kid, innocent and naive. “I think I have a free pass today.” 

She rolled her eyes but grinned back at him. (Y/N) held out her bruised hand. The stem of a light coloured rose twisted between her fingertips. It reminded him of a sunset, the light orange of the sky painted the center of the flower. The colour grew lighter and lighter, almost white, as it spread to the edges of the flower petals. 

Swallowing, he reached out for the flower. A tiny flush made its way up to his cheeks when her fingers lightly brushed against his own as he took the stem. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, holding the flower delicately in his hands. 

(Y/N) laughed. “It’s a peach rose. It means sincerity and gratitude. Or, in other words, thank you,” 

“Kei!” he blurted. 

(Y/N) cocked her head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“My name,” he said, lowering his voice as his cheeks burned. “My name is Tsukishima Kei.” 

The smile on (Y/N) face grew. “Well, Tsukishima Kei, thank you for helping me tonight.” Her voice faltered. “Are you going to come back? I’ll show you how to arrange flowers.” 

Tsukishima would _need_ someone to stop him from coming back. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Silence plagued the roads. The only sound came from Sugawara’s car as he pulled up to the sidewalk underneath a street lamp, the spot of tonight’s events. Tsukishima let himself out of the car. He was relieved when Sugawara didn’t ask any questions once he got into the car with a flower in his hand, but the smirk on his face made Tsukishima wish he walked home. 

Tsukishima was going to tell everyone all they needed to know eventually. He just wanted some time to figure out things for himself first. 

He stood where the attacker once did. 

From here, he could see (Y/N)’s blood clearly under the light of the lamp. That reminded him to get someone to wash that away before the sun rose, but that wasn’t the reason he came back. Under his feet, the blood of the boy stained the pavement as well. 

Tsukishima took out a napkin from his pants pocket and picked up a small rock that was coated with dry blood. His other hand still held the new rose he received. 

He slipped the rock covered napkin back into his pocket. 

It was going to be a long night. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this one! Hopefully you liked it too. There will be another part! I just don’t know when...Bacon and I are swimming in requests, but I think it’ll be soon. 
> 
> Sorry that it’s late… 
> 
> On a different note, I’ve been reading a lot! I finished the Six of Crows duology and I loved it so much. 
> 
> Thank you for Reading! - Kiwi


	34. Cross the Pacific - Sugawara Koushi & Oikawa Tooru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Regular (Breakup + New boo)  
> Requested  
> Tags: GN!Reader, angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of alcohol, time skip spoilers, and a lot of implied happenings   
> Word Count: 6k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The gym was loud, constantly being filled with the screams of boys running around the meshed fabric as they sent balls flying in every direction. Maybe a crude description despite your knowledge of the sport, but you thought it was fitting as you watched from the sidelines next to the silver setter with a bruised knuckle. 

The volleyball player winced, as you slowly moved the joint. You looked up to his panting figure, watching as he took back a large gulp of iced water with his head tilted back. A small bead of sweat trickled down the length of his neck, racing down to meet the collar of his white shirt, now turned a translucent grey in some spots from absorbing sweat off of his neck and face. You handed him a small towel, warmth dancing along your cheeks like pin needles, eager to hide the view from your sight.

With nimble fingers, you wrapped the swollen digit gently with medical tape, attaching it to the one next to it. “Koushi,” you sighed. “You’re meant to set the ball, not jab your finger into it.”

“I know, I know. I just messed up,” he laughed, giving his taped fingers a little wiggle as he removed them from your grip. “Have you heard anything from the universities yet?”

You shook your head, kissing your teeth to make a small  _ tsk  _ escape you as you packed up your small medkit. “Nothing. Those places don’t deserve me anyway, I’ve got bigger things coming my way. I just know it.” Despite your bravado, you could feel the small shake in your chest.

Koushi sent you a big grin, giving you a silent boost of confidence, before standing up. “You finished with the Med-club, right? I hope I didn’t pull you out too early.”

“We finished up early today, so don’t worry.” With a big swing of your bag, you got to your feet. “I’m gonna head home, okay?”

“(L/N)!” You heard Hinata call from the other end of the gym. “Come join us and play for a bit! Your boyfriend can teach you some more!” He bargained, desperately hoping you could stay longer in case a ball found his nose to be an attractive place to slam into. Though, he would never say that loud, too prideful and easily picked on for that.

“No can do, Hinata,” you laughed, making him pout and let his shoulders fall with the weight of his arms. You turned to look at Koushi again, enjoying the practice of looking into the dark olive-green colour of his eyes.

“Do you want me to walk you? It’s getting kind of late,” he asked following your footsteps to the metal doors, ignoring the yells of his younger teammates calling for him to return.

You zipped up your large coat, preparing for the cold outside that would surely try to bite at any uncovered skin. Rising onto your toes, you pecked the small mole that delicately sat next to his eye. “I’ll be fine, Koushi,” You replied, stepping out onto the concrete stairs. “Love you.”

“Love you too, get home safe.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Your breath wavered as you opened the email that waited in your inbox.

It was early in the morning, maybe around 6 am, the rest of your family was still asleep and you were quivering in your desk chair trying to build up the courage of opening the blasted email that waited in your inbox. Your mouth felt grimy, still sour from just waking up. You grimaced, wincing at the sunlight that decided to peek out from behind the clouds and pierce your eyes.

Weaving your fingers together, you brought the bridge of your nose, right between the brow, to rest against them. You took in a deep breath, feeling your heart trying to rip it’s way out through your sternum. This moment could be the beginning or end of your career. 

As you moved the cursor to sit above the email, you spared a glance at the delicately hung photo on the wall behind your monitor. The tape had held on strong for the last couple of years. Koushi told you that ‘it wouldn’t last’ when you first stuck it up. The clear tape hasn’t given up yet. Your mom thinks it’s a good omen. You just think she spends too much time looking at horoscopes on Facebook. Either way, you thought it was a good sign.

Huffing out a shaky breath, you looked back at the hidden message and clicked it open. 

The first line, then the next, then you skipped over the rest, not needing to see much more than that.

You pushed out of your chair, nearly falling to the floor of your bedroom because of your shaking knees. The fluid in your head seemed to splash up against the side of your skull and your stomach clenched in on itself, suddenly in need of food. The floor seemed much more welcoming now that a moment ago.

Softly, you dropped to your knees and let your body flatten against the cool hardwood floor. You breathed deeply, letting the cold air calm your nerves and slow down the rushing blood in your veins. You smiled, pushing your nose into the plush carpet at the foot of your bed.

“I did it. I fucking did it.”

In the hours it took for your parents to wake up, you were at your computer. The steps you had to follow were simple enough. Contact your guidance counsellor, fill in a few documents, and finally, say yes. Your hands shook the entire time

You were in the kitchen, chugging back a large glass of water when you told your mom. She nearly broke your glass in the process of yanking you into a bone-crushing hug that made you choke.

“(Y/N). Argentina, are you kidding? You better not be lying to me or else I’m gonna cry.”

“You’re already crying. Now please, I can’t breathe here.”

She reluctantly drops her hands, turning toward the refrigerator to pull out a small tupperware container filled with leftovers you didn’t know you had. “So, what are you going to do?” she asked.

“Well, I have a few months before I leave. But I’m gonna search for an apartment, see if there are any part-time jobs I can apply for to get some extra money, apply for a Visa. I’ll even do some language courses before I go. I—”

“(Y/N),” she interjected, taking a seat at the kitchen counter. “What about Koushi?”

You paused, letting the cold air run over your shoulders as the sudden realization of the situation made itself known at the front of your mind. “Oh, right. Well, I only plan to be there for a year, then I can come back and do university here right? Koushi will get it, he’ll understand.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

He did not understand.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You said you were going to go to Miyagi U.”

Maybe your timing was wrong. It probably would have been better to tell him after his volleyball practice when he was tired. You bounced on your toes excitedly, letting out a tiny whine as you waited for him to slow the sound of his rattling to a stop.

“I said I would apply, and I did. But unlike you, Mr. Smarty Pants, I haven’t heard from them, but I have heard from that apprenticeship in San Juan. And I want to go.”

It was cold out, the late-February wind decided today would be perfect for freezing winds. You shivered in your coat, desperately wanting to join the rest of his team inside the warm gym. You kicked your feet in the dusty snow of the ground.

Koushi shut his eyes tightly, making his nose scrunch as he bit his lip. Twitching fingers moved against his arms before finding home in his elbows. He sighed. “But what’s wrong with staying here?”

You jumped. “Nothing, Koushi. You know there’s nothing wrong here, you must know that. It’s not like I’ll be gone forever. Just a year to get some experience, and then I’ll be back before you know it.” Your voice seemed to shake, and you desperately hoped it was from the cold.

He exhaled slowly, head down and eyes staring between the metal doors of the boy’s gym. His voice was dulled, flattened, so tired. He didn’t meet your gaze, letting you stare at his silver hair for a couple of unbearable seconds.

“Koushi, aren’t you happy for me?”

“I am happy for you, (Y/N),” he said, continuing to stare through the doors. “I just— I’ll talk to you later.”

You watched silently as he walked up the concrete steps of the gym. The burning in your chest grew as he began to push the door further open, not sparing a glance over his shoulder.

“I love you, Koushi.”

There was no response as the doors shut behind him.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Daichi,” you panted out from the gym doorway. “Is he gone?”

The following weeks until the end of the school year left radio silence between you and Koushi. You never found him in the hallways, or his classrooms before lunch, he even seemed to leave volleyball practice before club times were over. If hurt less than you thought it would, but the ‘later’ he referred to that day seemed to never come.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he replied, dropping his gaze to the wood floor.

The sad stares of the boy’s volleyball team dug into your skin like dull knives. Your feet suddenly seemed a lot more interesting of a sight.

You sighed, “Don’t apologize. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

That walk home felt worse than the last.

You wanted nothing more to slump into your bed, ignoring the final assignments that you still had neglected to hand in. Before you on the computer’s monitor was one of these assignments, slowly printing out as you dug your forehead into the hardwood of your desk. With closed eyes, you listened to the whirring of the machine as the loose pieces of paper slowly poured out of the machine. Something fell onto the table. A small, stiff object that seemed to flutter before hitting the hard table.

Lifting your head you looked up to your wall. Right there. You held your breath as you looked at the lonely piece of tape that stuck to the wall. Quickly rising to your feet, your eye darted to the surface of your desk below the offending tack on the wall. Facedown, in a pile of wires that trailed to your computer, was the photograph. You delicately picked up the polaroid, inspecting the bent corner. 

Sighing, you ran to your closet, pulling out an old brown box from the top shelf and throwing it onto your bed.

The next couple of hours were filled with frustrated groans and rustling of clothes as they were torn off their racks and into the dusty box. Various photos and decorations were torn off your walls and added to the sad pile with one last sigh. You ripped the necklace that sat at the collar bone of your neck, wrapping it around the small polaroid and setting it on top of the boxed pile.

You could feel your throat clamp closed as you tried to breathe in slowly. The sleeves of your sweater felt ruff against your puffy eyes. You choked.

“(Y/N), is something wrong?” Your mom peaked in through the crack in the doors opening, brows pinching together.

A cold breath escaped your tired lungs as you turned to face her. “Ya, everything’s fine. Hey, could you maybe help me book my flight?”

The corners of her lips were still pulled downwards, concern evident, but she tried her best to give you a happy smile. It just couldn’t reach her eyes. “Of course.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Cloaked in black, you watched your graduating class poor out of the school doors in waves, each one happily carrying their protected diplomas in the palm of their hands. You gave them smiles as they walked by. From the driver's seat, your mom watched you through an open window, occasionally looking back to read the diploma in her hands.

“Are you sure you want to do this, (Y/N)?” She asked, poking her head out.

You gripped the sides of the box tighter. “I may not want to, but I haven’t been given a choice in the matter.”

She let out a sad sigh, “There’s always a choice.”

“Not this time. Sugawara hasn’t given me the luxury.”

For him to walk out of the school doors with a bright smile of his face was a punch to the face, breaking your nose. The trio of boys laughed happily as they swung their diploma filled hands in the air. Your knees shook as you waited for them to come closer to the exit. 

You don’t know who saw you first, but within a matter of seconds, your mother pulled the car up the road and you were face to face with the silver-haired boy. 

Swallowing the frog in your throat, you pushed the heavy old box into his chest, smudging a bit of dust onto his black uniform.

“What’s all this?” he asked, raising a brow teasingly.

You tried not to scoff, “It’s not a present if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Propping it onto his knee, Sugawara flipped up the lid of the box, peering inside. His brow changed, pushing to meet in the center of his face. Dropping the lid, he continued to hold the fuddled expression as he looked at you. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“More like finalizing what you started,” you pushed out quietly.

“(Y/N), please, you can’t just—”

“Just what?” you asked, pushing yourself to speak louder as you met his eyes. “Just cut you off after not seeing you for weeks? I didn’t even know if your injury healed!” you stopped, breathing slowly as you tried your best to calm the vibrating nerves in your body. “I don’t know what you were expecting, but if it wasn’t this, you’re an imbecile.”

He tipped the box open again, taking hold of something from the top. “I didn’t think—”

“Obviously,” you huffed hastily. “Look, I’ve got to go. I have somewhere to be.” You stepped back slowly, suddenly finding the view of your mom’s car much more interesting.

The space between you felt larger than it has been in weeks despite being only an arm's reach away. You breathed in deeply. You spun on your heel, turning to the old car, only to be stopped by the dusty box pressing into your stomach as Sugawara rushed to block off your path.

“Where are you going? We still need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing more to say. Now please, I need to go.” You tried to walk around, but he quickly sidestepped in your way.

“Where?”

You let out an annoyed huff. “I have a plane to catch.”

He pushed forward, head falling over the box as he tried to get closer. “A plane? Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

“How was I supposed to, huh?” you screeched. “I saw no hide nor hair from you for weeks, and you expect me to tell you I’m leaving when you’re the one that was purposefully avoiding me?!” 

You could feel the stares of your school mates as they slowly walked past like traffic around a car accident. The anger that was bubbling in your stomach was overflowing so much that you thought you were going to puke. Despite everything in your body telling you not to, you continued. 

“You just ghosted me, even worse, you cut me off. Not once did you try to reach out, or talk to me, you never told me your qualms or worries. I would’ve listened.” The tears that poured down your face only stung the wound more. “But, you didn’t tell me anything. So I’m leaving. You have no say in that anymore, not now.”

“(Y/N), I—”

“Bye, Sugawara.”

This time, as you bent your body around his to continue down the sidewalk, he didn’t stop you.

Once in the passenger seat of your mom’s car, you pushed your head back into the plush seat and closed your eyes, letting all the air in your lungs slowly roll off your tongue. The blood in your head throbbed loudly, making your ears hurt. You pushed back the seat, lying as flat as you could with the suitcases that were propped behind it. A sniffle escaped.

Foot pressing on the gas, your mom gave you a pitiful look from the corner of her eye, before shooting her gaze back to the road as she has been for the past number of stifling minutes. Reaching over, she knocked your arm off of your eyes. “I know, I know. But you can sleep on the plane,” she paused for a moment, “How are you feeling?”

You swallowed harshly, “Like a demon decided to make home in my brain and eats its way to my heart.” Turning your head you gave your mom a sad grin, “I’m naming it Baloo.”

She laughed.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Economy seating, though often cramped, wasn’t so bad if you weren’t in front of a crying kid, or next to someone who’s body odour overpowered the strength altitude had on your senses. Luckily, you got neither of them. Instead next to you sat a boy who didn’t pack his headset in his carryon. 

You desperately wanted to sleep off all the sourness and pain in your eyes, but the gentle sound coming out of his computer kept you awake. Through narrowed eyes, you shifted your head to watch his frozen profile stare into the bright screen in front of him and the video that played quietly among the silent passengers.

His sweater was a dull, soft yellow, colour faded after years of being worn casually. His fingers held the ends of the sleeves, covering the palms of his hands. He didn’t blink, eyes shot frozen in a wide position, letting in as much light as possible

“I hate to interrupt, but don’t you think you should sleep at some point?” you whispered near his shoulder.

His warm brown eyes turned to meet your suspicious gaze with a shocked expression pulling at the edges, his lips pursed together. “If I sleep now, I’ll be sleeping throughout the day in Argentina. Did I wake you? I can turn it down if you’d like.”

You shook your head, arching off the plush chair to let your elbow push into the armrest between you, accidentally bumping shoulders along the way. “It’s alright,” you said, rubbing the long since dried tears from your eyes, “couldn’t sleep anyway. Is that the San Juan team?” You asked, nodding your head in the direction of the video playing on his laptop.

“Oh, ya. It is,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “Do you know anything about volleyball?” he asked, brushing a bit of hair off his forehead. 

You nodded keeping your eyes trained on the setters that stood in the center of the plays. “I know more than I’d like to admit.”

“Really?” his voice picked up, excitement pouring through his words. “Well, I’m trying out for their team, so I want to see how they play a bit more before the tryout.” He turned to face you. “You look surprised.”

“Huh, oh,” you laughed, trying not to bite your lip. “It’s just an unlikely coincidence.”

He gave you a teasing smirk, pushing his elbow to rest behind yours on the plastic armrest. “How so?”

You gulped, tempted to lean away from his curious posture. The words escaped you in a hesitant but excited nature, “I just so happen to have an apprenticeship with their medical team.”

A large smile broke out onto his cheeks, nearly letting his words fall out in a tumbling yell. “Really? Then we’ll be seeing each other a lot more then. That’s awesome.”

“If you get on the team.”

He scoffed, “Oh, I’ll get on. Just watch me.”

“Then you’ll be getting injured a lot, I presume.”

The 24-hour plane ride continued smoothly. Filled with small, excited conversations in between and slightly awkward awakens on the other’s shoulder after short naps. All while suspended in the air over a large body of water. 

Talks about your schools and friends ran smoothly until he brought up the discoloured skin around your eyes. But, despite your apprehension, he safely maneuvered around the topic, not letting your conversation slip into an uneasy, awkward, silence. The food was tasteless, but filling, giving you both a laugh and another conversation starter, which he listened to intently, watching you ramble over how the altitude changes your ability to smell and taste. And you reciprocated when the topic of family came up and he took the opportunity to gush over his young nephew. It was nice. Very nice.

“Do you have an apartment set up near the sports centre?” he asked with a loud yawn, as you stood next to each other in the crowd, waiting for your luggage to slowly slide onto the conveyor belt. He brushed his gently swooping hair back.

You blinked slowly, desperately trying to not rub your tired eye sockets as you pulled one of your suitcases off the moving machine before it ran away. “I, ugh, was sort of in a rush to get out of Miyagi. I sort of overlooked finding a place to live,” you let out a sad, self-deprecating chortle. “I fucked up, I’m a fuck up. Fuck. I’ll just live on a park bench.”

Your new friend let out a sharp and heavy laugh, relying on his blue suitcase to carry his weight.

“You can stop laughing, I’m being serious.”

“No, you’re not. Come on, I already have an apartment waiting to accommodate my tired ass. You can stay with me. We can live more frugally. You only plan on being here for a year right?”

You sighed, giving in and using the back of your wrist to rub your eyes. “That was the plan. But,” you paused, looking at the contact information on our suitcase for a moment. “I’m not sure if I have much to go back to now.”

You could feel the combination of heartache and exhaustion weighing down on our shoulder after hours not being able to cope with your new relationship status. A yawn tore its way out of you.

“Well,” He began. “Maybe, you’ll find something to stay for. Now come on,” He said, offering you a cluttered elbow to hook your bag covered arm into, “We’ve got an apartment to fill.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Sugawara sat in the center of his small on-campus residence flipping through the various textbooks that stacked on top of each other across his small desk. His head pounded at the temples as he searched for a key sticky note he had left somewhere in the many pages. The old box laid untouched at the end of his dorm bed next to Sawamura, who for once, seemed uncaring of his friend’s personal space.

“What are you gonna do with all this stuff anyway?” he asked, lifting one of Sugawara’s worn out sweaters from the pile.

“Well, half of it was originally mine, so I guess I need to keep it. But can you not go through that stuff, I can’t stand to look at it,” the leaner, stressed man snapped over his shoulder at his friend who worked on folding the wrinkled clothes that he pulled from the offending box.

Sawamura sighed, “Dude. I hate to say it, but it’s been months. You’re going to have to face it eventually, and the best way to start is to go through this box.” With a satisfied huff, he dropped it onto the floor.

“Daichi,” Sugawara drawled, spinning in his chair, swinging an arm over the back, to look at the cardboard on the floor. “(Y/N)’s going to be stuck here with me forever, I can’t change that. How am I supposed to just toss it away? I can’t bring myself to do it.”

Sawamura dragged his fingernails over his scalp, looking up at his long time friend from his haunched position. He wanted to look away as soon as the words came out of his mouth, not bearing the sight of his torn friend’s expression. “Koushi,” he said. “You already have.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Oikawa, one of these days you’re going to get a knee replacement I swear.”

The setter rested along the length of the black faux-leather couch that was pushed against the wall of your living room, leg propped up on a large pillow as he scrolled through the various cable networks that played Spanish soap operas more often than the news. He let out a childish whine, followed by a laugh.

“It won’t ever come to that, (Y/N). After all,” he sent you a flirtatious smile. “You’re my personal doctor.”

You scoffed, dropping a fresh ice pack onto his knee, making him yelp at the sudden temperature change. “I’m not your personal anything dumbass.”

“Are you sure about that?” he dropped the remote onto the short table next to him, finally settling on a show that had English subtitles running along the bottom of the large screen attached to the wall.

“You’re right. I’m your babysitter,” you teased, hopping away from the couch toward the kitchen.

“Hey!” he shouted, trying to follow you toward the marble counters.

“No Moving, Oikawa!”

Huffing, he crossed his arms and fell back onto the couch, pouting up to the tv. You watched his childish tantrum fizzle out as you filled up two glasses with water. It was hot out. The both of you were in loose shorts and t-shirts, desperate to get as much heat off your bodies as possible. Oikawa waited for you to come back with the cold peace offering before speaking again.

“When are you gonna call me ‘Tooru’? I want to hear you say it before you leave Argentina and go back to Japan. Can’t you grant me that wish?” he pleaded, nursing his cold glass in the palms of his hands, before setting it on the table next to yours.

You settled into the open space his feet left at the end of the plush couch, trying not to shift his injured leg too much. He responded to your silence by kicking his other leg over your lap, making you look at him, unamused. He prodded for an answer.

A sigh escaped you involuntarily as you stared off into the white wall of your shared apartment. “What if,” you pondered, breathing in slowly with a quiet voice. “What if I don’t leave? What would you want then?”

Months turned nearly a year of living together and working in close quarters had somehow turned the most wretched day of your life into a jumble of colours you could never begin to describe. Months of thinking about your next steps, reflecting over past mistakes, and dreaming of the possibilities of what could lay open, uncovered in the white wall of this apartment. You didn’t know what you were going to do come the date of your planned return to Japan, but you did know what you wanted here.

You slowly turned your dazed eyes over to the injured setter that sat next to you, the earnest emotion in his eyes rolled into you, not letting you look away or blink.

His hand came to wrap around your arm as he shifted as close as he could without bending his knee. The hand then slowly trailed down you hold yours. He never broke eye contact for even a second. Your free hand came to grip the hem of his shirt tightly, knuckles brushing over the taut skin above his hip bone.

“If you decided to stay, would you let me be a little selfish?” His voice was barely over a whisper, breath smoothly mingling with your own. So gentle that it would have been difficult to hear over the tv if you were even an inch farther away. 

“Tooru—”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“What?!” the younger man screamed, grabbing the attention of the other diners that were eating in the small bar/restaurant. Making them all glare at his copperhead for interrupting their meals.

“Four years and you’re as loud as ever. Would you calm down for once? Yes, okay? I am, we are,” Oikawa huffed, waving the younger man down as he desperately tried the more than spiteful looks that were sent their way.

“I haven’t seen (L/N) in forever. I didn’t think I’d see them again.”

The two men sat in a small seaside restaurant with a view of the beach right outside the large open windows, both tired from a day of playing in the sand with a couple of competitive strangers. The city was still alive hours after the sun had set. People were out at parties, drinking wine in fancy restaurants, or dancing to music that blared over the loudspeakers in the more populated streets.

Hinata slowly lowered himself back into the wooden chair, hopping slightly to get it tucked underneath the table again. With raised brows and pinched lips, the carrot top shifted his elbows onto either side of his near-empty plate, watching with wrapped attention as Oikawa took a bite from the large steak that sat on the porcelain platter.

“Well, since you're in Brazil, why don’t you join? We can probably even sneak in a game at the beach afterwards,” he said with a hand over his mouth as he chewed away at the juicy slab of meat. “We just can’t let (Y/N) know.”

“Are you sure you want me there?” Hinata asked as he set his glass of water down. “I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“It’s gonna be a small event and reception, so there won’t be a lot of people, and you’ll meet my teammates. Besides,” Oikawa gave the eager volleyball player a gentle smile. “I think it would be nice for both of us to have another old friend around.”

“Everyone’s gonna be speaking Spanish and English though,” Hinata slumped into his chair, grimace pulling at the edge of his lips. “I can understand some English, sure, but who would I talk to? The two of you will be busy the whole time.”

Oikawa spun the last bit of water in his glass slowly. “Don’t worry about that, our families are flying in and so is Iwaizumi. So there will be more than a few Japanese speakers there.”

Hinata sat straighter in his seat, shoulder pushing up to his ears as a large smile pulled at tanned cheeks. “Ooh? Really!” his voice rose, grabbing the attention of the irked customers around them. He lowered his voice, immediately noticing the glares sent his way. “I’d love to play a game with him too.” He paused briefly. “But Oikawa.”

“Hmmm, What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have a suit.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The screams of the hundreds of people in the stadium poured over everyone’s heads into the lower floor where the game would take place. It was wild. People from around the globe sat in the rows of plastic chairs, yelling over each other as they tried to make their words heard. From the main halls, Sugawara stood with his long time friends, sipping away at a customary plastic cup of beer, listening to the roars of opposing fans scream their chants at each other.

“This is so crazy, isn’t it? People we knew and played with, are going to be on the big stage for the whole world to see,” Sawamura let out in a large breath of air. “We played with some insane kids.”

Sugawara laughed, dropping his cup toward his waist. “We sure did.”

“I can’t imagine being on that court. The thought alone gives me shivers,” Asahi chipped in with a shudder.

The three slowly began to make their way through the large crowds towards their designated seats near Japan’s cheer squad. Daichi shifted his shoulders as he walked past an unwavering group that wouldn’t move. “We’re all going to the meetup later, right?”

The meetup. Sugawara was excited to see his old teammates and rivals again, though he was certain that the night would more than likely be filled with incoherent shouting matches over a hefty dinner made of mostly protein. He was right of course. About the large meals and loud yelling with a side of alcohol.

But he didn’t expect to see you waltz in, arm in arm with the infamous Oikawa Tooru, with an Argentine officials uniform pulled fittingly onto your arms.

He spent the whole night trying to get your attention to turn his way, but you seemed to be enraptured with the conversation you held with his previous underclassmen. Hinata especially seemed to be excited to talk to you.

So he settled with watching from afar. Letting the sight of the warmly lit environment make your skin let off a healthy glow. Those hours away from you, out of reach but in his sights, made that old wound reopen in his chest. Letting his spine curl into the wooden backrest of the chair he occupied.

“(L/N),” he said, finally able to pull you away from the brunet’s side and brush off Sawamura’s pestering. “How— how have you been? I haven’t seen you since…” his voice tapered off, suddenly realizing the situation that the little bit of liquid courage has put him into.

You gave him a large smile, maybe a bit guilty, but large nonetheless. “Ya. It sure has been. That’s my fault though, I ended up staying in Argentina. Not my original plan, but it just sort of happened.” Your voice raised at the end, almost as if you sounded embarrassed. The glass of water in your hand was quickly held up to your mouth.

“Well, it’s nice to have you back. Maybe we can—”

“Eh, look who it is. Karasuno’s designated pretty setter.” Oikawa, the man that had been glued to your side all night, rarely ever lifting the arm that once again was attached to the length of your shoulders. “How have you been, Mr. Refreshing?”

“I’ve been good. I started working at an elementary school.”

“Really?” you piped. A smile pulled your features as if you had just seen the more endearing thing. “That’s amazing, Sugawara, you’ve always liked kids.”

“Ya, I’m—”

“Oikawas!” The younger, redheaded man was at it again, yelling over the bustling crowd that filled the restaurant as he tried to run over.

Sugawara sighed, shaking his head at Hinata’s antics to grab the other player’s attention. He was about to yell at him to settle down before it occurred to him, successfully being the third person to cut himself off within the five-minute conversation. His brow furrowed and cheeks flushed, turning his head to look at the muscular arm that draped across your shoulders. He gulped.

“Oikawas?” he emphasized, successfully pulling your attention back to his confused gaze.

Biting your lip, you gave him a nervous smile.

In a single moment, the sound of the people around him washed away into a throbbing silence. His smile dropped and his eyes began to widen. The sight of the two people before him began to wash away all other distractions like tunnel vision. Whether it was the alcohol in his system, or his social battery running low, it didn’t matter. The image was unmistakable and the recognition in his eyes told you that. 

Delicately wrapped around the fourth finger of your hand, on the hands of the two people before him, were perfectly polished gold bands.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be honest. This was like 2 sentences off from including smut…. I don’t write smut sooooo. Sorry buds - Bacon


	35. The Language of Flowers Pt.2 - Tsukishima Kei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Gang / Organized Crime   
> Requested   
> FEM! Reader   
> Word Count: 8.3k
> 
> Warnings: Violent descriptions, some swearing 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Tsukishima had taken an affinity to flowers since he met (Y/N). 

Every night that week he had gone to her store and brought back a bouquet of flowers with him. Each bouquet was placed in various vases and pots that decorated the inside of his office and places around Headquarters that had good light.

(Y/N) was very adamant about it. She constantly told him how to take care of the flowers he took home and sprinkled tiny facts whenever he was in her store. If he closed his eyes, Tsukishima could almost hear her voice in the back of his mind. _The potted flowers have to be watered every few days. Make sure they don’t dry out but don’t drown them either. Change the water every day with flowers you plan to put in vases. Make sure they have natural sunlight._ There were so many rules, but he found himself smiling at the thought of it. 

The Karasuno members definitely took notice of Tsukishima’s new hobby, snickering amongst themselves whenever they saw their boss holding a light blue watering can, humming to himself, and walking around the building to water the flowers or carrying vases to bathrooms to change the water in them. 

They’ve never seen him smile so much. He seemed to have a small, but permanent, smile on his lips. 

Tsukishima sat in his office. He’d spent the better part of the last half hour trying to fix his tie. The tutorials he found online were no help. After weeks of going to her flower shop, he finally gained the courage to ask (Y/N) out on a date and he wasn’t going to mess it up. He could plan revenge schemes and elaborate heists to instill fear in his enemies, but Tsukishima could barely ask out (Y/N), let alone plan out a date. 

Just as he was about to complete the tie, Hinata came barging through the door. 

He glared. “I thought we had a conversation about knocking. I could have shot you.” 

Hinata grimaced and offered him a nervous smile. “Sorry. I forgot.” 

“You can’t apologize if you’re dead,” he mumbled. He straightened his spine and turned to Hinata. The disturbance made him officially give up on the tie that was now lying peacefully on the floor beside his chair. “Is the result of the blood back?” 

“No.” 

“Then what do you want?”

“Sawamura caught an attacker during patrol,” said Hinata. 

Tsukishima’s head snapped up. He hated to admit it, but they were waiting for another attack for the chance to catch someone in action.

“They’re in the murde— they’re at the warehouse,” he continued. 

Buying the warehouse was one of the best investments Tsukishima had made. It was surrounded by other in-use warehouses, but they took an extra precaution and put up the signs of a fake business around the outside and soundproofed the entire building. He even told Kageyama to block out all the windows with pieces of wood. The Karasuno members had dubbed it ‘The Murder House’, but he thought that was a little harsh. It was more of an interrogation house...with a possible after-effect of death.

He bought it a year after he became leader. Karasuno had been in conflict with another group at the time and when the opportunity came to get information from one of the members, they had nowhere to interrogate them. They didn’t want to risk being traced back to their Headquarters and they couldn’t — well, they could, but didn’t want to — kill every single person they needed information from. 

Tsukishima took notice of the time and rose from his chair. There was an hour left before his date with (Y/N) and the warehouse, at most, was a 20-minute drive from her flower shop. It would be tight, but he could make it if he got the person talking quickly—and he had his methods. 

He nodded at Hinata. “Thanks. Tell Sawamura I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” 

Hinata nodded back and turned to go, but halted for a second. He looked at Tsukishima and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Are you going somewhere?” 

“No.” 

Hinata looked him up and down again, taking in the full extent of his outfit, an amused smirk grew on his face. Tsukishima groaned internally. All of them had the same mocking look and side-eye, the one that was reserved when the topic of flowers and a certain girl who cared for said flowers came up. It was pretty much public —Karasuno— knowledge that Tsukishima had spent a lot of his spare time with (Y/N) at her flower shop. “You look nice, boss.” 

“Shut up,” he snapped. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Tsukishima pulled up to the front of the warehouse, slammed the car door shut, and made his way to the door.

The warehouse was open and empty, nothing occupied the space except for a table and two chairs on either side of it, all bolted to the ground. A metre away from the table, a long pipe hung from the ceiling and curved up from the bottom like a candy cane. He saved that for the people who pissed him off and didn’t deserve the decency of sitting. Grime coated the walls. The type from old age and years of never being cleaned. A hose was attracted to the back wall for when things got messy. 

Sawamura sat in one of the chairs, his legs perched on top of the table, hands folded neatly in his lap. The attacker sat across from Sawamura, hands tied flat on the table. Blood dripped from his nose and his head slumped forward, hanging carelessly off his neck. 

“Good afternoon,” Tsukishima mused, shifting personas. He never enjoyed hurting people, but sometimes he didn’t have a choice. Kill or be killed. Fear or be feared. He didn’t have to think twice about his decisions, not when his choices dictated the lives of innocent people. “No, wait. Actually, it’s closer to the evening. My bad.”

At the sound of his entrance, Sawamura raised to his feet. His lip was split but other than that he seemed uninjured. He nodded at Tsukishima. 

The attacker’s head popped up and stared at him. His lips formed a ghostly smile, teeth covered with blood. “Ahh, it’s the big, bad, Karasuno boss. Going somewhere fancy?” he said laughing. 

Tsukishima frowned, but didn’t say anything, and kept his brisk pace. He leaned back in the chair, folding his hands together. 

They were silent for a long moment. The attacker, grinning. Tsukishima, planning. 

“Are we just going to sit here?” the attacker laughed. He tipped his head forward and hit it against the table a couple of times then came up with a grin. “Can I have something to drink?” 

In one quick motion, Tsukishima sat up, grabbed the man’s index finger, and jerked it to the side. Before the man could let out a sound, Tsukishima repeated the act to the man’s other hand. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” the man screamed. With his slightly thrashing from the pain, he involuntarily flexed his finger which sounded another scream. 

Tsukishima let him moan in anguish for a bit. _Let him remember the pain. There is always more to inflict._

“Who do you work for?” Tsukishima asked calmly. 

“Are you fucking kidding?” the man cried. “You’re insane.” 

“Insane?” he said. “I haven’t, in fact, actually heard that one before. But let me tell you what I do know.” 

Tsukishima reached out and gripped one of the man’s broken fingers, squeezing it tightly.“I know that there have been a series of attacks in my area against public buildings and people. I know that I want it to stop. I know that someone is behind it. I also know that that person either wants something or is just stupid enough to piss me off. And you’re going to tell me all the dirty little details.” 

“And why would I do that? I’d be dead either way.” 

“Because you have eight more fingers left and I’m a patient man with a lot of time on my hands.” 

Tsukishima unsheathed the knife that was hidden in his jacket. This was a new addition to his wardrobe. He never went anywhere without a weapon and he didn’t want to take guns into (Y/N)’s store. He held the knife in front of him and balanced the tip of the blade on the table, bouncing the handle back and forth between his index finger and thumb. 

The man swallowed. 

“But, you’re right.” Tsukishima tapped the tip of the blade on the table. He looked up at the man and smiled. “If you tell me what you know and go back to wherever that is, you’re most certainly going to die. I, however, will make death look like mercy.” 

He turned the handle in his hand so that the blade faced down to the table. Tsukishima lifted it in the air and brought it back down with as much force he could muster. The blade landed at the fingertips of the attacker. The sound of metal on metal echoed throughout the room. 

“So,” Tsukishima said casually, “are you going to start talking? Or am I going to repeat this conversation with a fingerless man?” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Tsukishima was late. Luckily, that was only because of traffic, the interrogation went how he expected it to. He got what he needed with no blood involved. The man caved quicker than an avalanche.

He wanted to make it up to her though. He chose a flower from a nearby cart, that was close to his parking spot, and dashed towards the restaurant. Even with his extended time with (Y/N), he wasn’t an expert on flowers like she was. Tsukishima couldn’t remember the flower’s name or meaning, so he picked a random one and hoped for the best. 

(Y/N) stood outside the restaurant rocking side-to-side on her feet and looking around slightly. She turned her head and saw Tsukishima come from around the corner. A smile grew on her face and she waved at him excitedly. 

He raised his hand and felt the corners of his lips curl up with anticipation. But then he paused for barely a second, so short he was probably the only one who felt the stop in time. A lump in his throat grew. Could he really do this? He just came back from putting the fear of death in someone. Maybe it would be different if (Y/N) knew what he _actually_ did for a living and his intentions to go with it, not some lie he gave her. But that wouldn’t magically clean the invisible blood that stained permanently stained his hands. 

She would understand, right? 

Tsukishima didn’t know how much longer he could live a lie. Especially if this date went the way he hoped. He never hid from himself before, so why now? 

“Are you okay?” (Y/N) asked when he was in earshot. “You went pale for a moment. Having second thoughts?” She laughed. 

“No,” he said quickly, “definitely not. I guess...I’m just more nervous than I thought I was.” 

“Don’t worry. You’re not the only one.” 

“Sorry I ran late. You weren’t waiting long were you?” 

“Nope,” she said. She glanced at Tsukishima’s hand and chuckled. “I think you're hurting it.” 

“What?” He looked down. The stem of the flower was crushed from the tightness of his grip. He relaxed. Maybe his nerves were showing more than he wanted. 

He held out the flower for her. “This is for you. I hope it means something nice. I didn’t want to make myself more late by looking it up…” 

Their hands brushed against each other as (Y/N) took the flower. She rolled it over in her hand to inspect it. It was a deep red, almost like blood. He resisted the urge to flinch. Small petals huddled close to the center and then fanned out to form a neat circle. 

“It’s a chrysanthemum.” She laughed and turned her gaze to the ground. 

“What?” he asked nervously. “It doesn’t mean I wish you eternal suffering right? Because I don’t.” 

_If it did, then maybe I should get myself a bouquet of them._

“No,” she said, shaking her hand. “Red chrysanthemum means love, so it’s actually a perfect flower to give me.” 

“Good,” he smiled. “I guess I got really lucky then, in more ways than one.” He gestured over to the door and tugged it open for her. “After you.” 

“Thank you.” 

Tsukishima followed her into the restaurant and then frowned. 

“Is something wrong?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Don’t a lot of flowers mean love?” 

“Yes,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “So many. You’d be surprised.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“Did you walk?” Tsukishima asked once they stepped out of the restaurant.

He was floating high in the air on cloud nine. He got to see (Y/N) smile and hear her laugh at stories he recounted and listen to the ones that she did. He’d never felt happier than in this moment. In a short period of time, they had created their own world where all their worries vanished and it was just them.

Tsukishima was sad that the date was coming to an end. 

(Y/N) was shocked at the fact that Tsukishima hadn’t been on many dates and in return Tsukishima made her tell him one of the worst dates she’s been on. 

“It’s true,” she had said, covering her mouth to laugh. “He kept talking to me about the properties of the silverware. Now, don’t get me wrong, everyone has their hobbies and are more than welcomed to do whatever they want, but when he kept calling himself ‘The King of Spoons’ I knew there wasn’t going to be a second date.” 

Tsukishima had choked on his water.

“He was nice though,” she had tried to reason. 

“I did,” she replied to his question and fixed her jacket. The chill weather that was brought on by the nightfall had snapped him out of his thoughts. He had his entire life to remember today and many more days in front of him to make new memories with (Y/N).

“I’ll drive you back,” he offered.

She smiled and gently grazed her fingers against his. “I’d like that.”

The loud _zoom_ of a speeding car made Tsukishima turn his head. 

The deafening thunderclap of gunshots and shattering glass made him alert and his eyes went searching for (Y/N). Tsukishima saw her flinch down into a crouch and cover her head with her arms.

A searing pain burned through his right thigh and he dropped to one knee. 

More gunshots went off as the car reached the end of the block, It turned the corner and disappeared from his view. He could hear the panic before he could see it. A few people were lying still on the ground while others were slowly sitting up to get a clear grasp on their wounds or what just happened. 

“Kei?” (Y/N) was by his side but her voice was fuzzy and sounded far away. Her hair was dishevelled and her eyes were wide with shock. 

“Are you hurt?” Tsukishima could barely get the words out, but he needed to know. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest and his breathing became so shallow he could hardly swallow or think straight. The feeling wasn’t new to him, the strong surge of adrenaline that made him feel more alive than closer to reality. It was a high that could crash at any moment or last until tomorrow, and he could risk the first one. 

(Y/N) shook her head. He forced his breathing to slow down his heart rate. Tsukishima knew that first responders would be here any minute. He tried to stand up.

“Woah,” she said shakily and placed a hand on his arm and pushed him down slightly. Her hands were cold. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. He needed to get her out of here too. The people in the car could come back. And though she wasn’t injured, she could be going through shock or she _could_ be injured and not feel it. “You were shot. You need to stay here. I heard someone calling the police. They should be here soon. You need medical attention, Kei.” 

A slow panic set through Tsukishima at the word of the cops, but he quickly brushed it off. He wasn’t afraid of the police, they just had a _really_ rocky relationship. The gunshot wound was in the leg he drove with. He couldn’t get away. Not alone. 

He looked around. No one was paying attention to them. 

“(Y/N). You know how to drive right?” he rushed. 

“Yes?”

“Do you trust me?” 

“Are you okay?” she asked ignoring his question. “You might have lost a lot of blood. Help is coming. They—” 

“(Y/N). Please. Do you trust me.” 

She paused. Then nodded. 

“Okay,” he sighed in relief. His back felt wet with sweat. “I need you to help me up and take me to my car. I’ll explain everything, but we have to go now.” 

(Y/N) gave him another shaky nod and moved to the side of his injured leg. She wrapped an arm around his waist and guided Tsukishima’s arm around her neck. He tried to help her as much as he could by putting his weight onto his good leg, but every step on his bad leg felt like fire running up his leg, the rush faded quickly, so he leaned on her heavily in those steps. Her breaths had become ragged.

“Almost to the car,” he encouraged. Maybe he was delirious from the phantom pain or the lack of adrenaline. All he could think about was the way her eyebrows furrowed together when she was concentrating on not dropping him and the smell of her hair. 

Slowly, they made their way to his car. They had to detour a couple of times due to increased people on the streets after hearing the shots. Why did people go towards the danger? Or leave their house when there were people with guns openly firing at innocents. It didn’t take long for Tsukishima to decide that he was going to make each of them pay. 

He bumped his head when (Y/N) tried to help him into the passenger seat. 

“Sorry,” she cringed. 

“It’s okay,” he replied, resting his head against the seat. “Believe it or not, that actually hurt less than the hole in my leg.” 

(Y/N) froze and her gaze went to his leg. His pants had darkened with the dampness of the blood. “Does it hurt more? Should I do something?” 

Tsukishima’s leg began to hurt more during their journey to the car, but he didn’t want her to worry more than she already was. “Do you have something I can stop the bleeding with? An extra piece of cloth or something.” 

Opening her glove compartment, (Y/N) ruffled through it and brought out a thin hoodie. She folded it and pressed it against his leg. His hand covered hers and gave it a tight squeeze. They locked eyes. He offered her a smile. “I’ll be okay.” 

She let out a puff of air. “Aren’t I the only one who’s supposed to tell you that.” 

He clucked. “Do you want to say it to me?” 

“You don’t seem worried,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Why aren’t you scared? You were shot. You didn’t wait for help. And now we’re in your car going somewhere. I have no idea what’s happening...but you seem to.” 

He could hear the police sirens clearly now and saw the bright lights flashing against the windows of storefronts. “We need to go.” 

(Y/N) closed her mouth and slipped her hand out his grasp. He felt cold. She shut the car door and walked around to the driver's seat. She jammed the key into the ignition and then turned. The car roared to life. 

“Where am I driving to?” 

Tsukishima rattled the address to the Karasuno headquarters and closed his eyes. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

The common room was loud, like always. This was the place where everybody came to after dinner before returning to their respective rooms or apartments. Kageyama never really liked it though. 

Everyone was confirming plans and assignments for tomorrow and had broken off into groups for some downtime. Sawamura had a small huddle around him giving the details of the interrogation that took place earlier that day. He’d already given everyone the rundown, new information they’d learned, and Tsukishima’s orders from that point on. Kageyama stood near the door leaning against a bookshelf. 

He really wanted to go to sleep.

The familiar creak of the outside door rang in his ears. Tsukishima must have been back from his date. Kageyama planned to leave soon, but maybe he would stay to see the other members tease him for a bit. That always brought him a little bit of joy. 

A woman he didn’t recognize came through the already opened door. She was half-covered in dried blood and had fresh tears on her face. Her breath was heavy like she had just run a marathon. The room fell silent. Everyone discharged their weapon and had it pointed at her. Alarm belling rang in his head. 

“(Y/N)?” Sugawara asked, standing up from his seat. 

“Can you help me?” she said, barely hiding the flinch from the guns trained on her. “Tsukishima’s really heavy.” 

Kageyama had already started to follow her—(Y/N), who finally had a name and a face—outside. He saw Azumane and Sugawara, of course, following closely behind him and heard the commanding voices of Ennoshita and Sawaruma back in the room. 

“What happened?” Sugawara asked. He sped up his pace to match (Y/N)’s. 

“We just finished dinner and someone in a car came down the street and started shooting everything,” she started. Her breaths were uneven and Kageyama recognized the sound well, panic. “He was shot and told me to drive him here. He was fine in the car. He was talking to me. Then he stopped and started to become really pale.” 

“How long has he been like that?” Kageyama asked. 

They had arrived at the car. It was parked at one of the hidden entrances. _At least Tsukishima still thought about Karasuno’s cover even if he was shot._

“I don’t know. Five minutes? Maybe more? After he stopped talking to me...I kind of drove a tad fast and was focused on not hitting anything.” (Y/N) opened the passenger side door. Tsukishima almost slumped out of the car if it was not for the seat belt. (Y/N) was right. The paleness of his skin was deathly. 

“Is he going to be okay?” (Y/N) asked. 

Azumane had unbuckled Tsukishima from the car and tried to wake him. He started to stir but his eyes stayed closed. Ennoshita came through the door carrying a portable gurney. He placed it on the ground and wordlessly helped Azumane put Tsukishima on it. 

Kageyama guided all of them through the door and back into the building. Sugawara gave some brief instructions to Ennoshita and then turned his attention toward (Y/N). Ennoshita and Azumane faded down the hallway as they carried Tsukishima towards the infirmary. Sugawara had a comforting smile on his face. 

“I’m not sure yet,” he answered. “But Tsukishima has come back from a lot worse.” 

“He has?” she blinked. 

_Wow,_ Kageyama thought, _the asshole really didn’t tell her a word._

“We’ll take care of him,” Kageyama said. 

Sugawara nodded and patted her on the arm. She flinched back. Sugawara frowned and pulled back his hand that was slightly stained with blood. “Were you shot?” 

“I don’t know.” Carefully, she pulled off the sleeve of her jacket, cringing each step of the way. Dried blood casketed down her arm in streaks. A fresh bleeding wound stood out on her shoulder. A gunshot graze. “Oh.” 

Sugawara looked up at Kageyama. He nodded back. 

“He’ll help you with that and if you ask nicely, he’ll answer some of your questions too,” Sugawara winked. “I’ll tell you as soon as I have news on Tsukishima.” 

(Y/N) nodded. “Okay… Thank you.” 

“Sugawara,” he supplied. Kageyama’s eyebrows shot up. Both Sugawara and Tsukishima had trusted her enough with their names. Was she really worth it? 

(Y/N) smiled softly. “Thank you, Sugawara. For last time too.” 

Sugawara gave one last nod and leaned in towards Kageyama’s ear. “Have someone more the car,” he said and disappeared down the hallway. 

“Follow me.” Kageyama jerked his head down the hallway in the opposite direction. 

He led her back to the common area, the closest place with a first aid kit.. Kit in hand, he turned back to where he left (Y/N). He regretted not leading her to another room. The Karasuno members were still gathered here and all of them were staring at her, talking amongst themselves in hushed tones. (Y/N) looked around awkwardly, but settled her gaze on the floor. 

Kageyama placed the kit on the table and opened it. 

“Why is everyone looking at me,” she whispered to him. 

He snorted out a laugh and took out the disinfectant. “Because you’re the reason there are flowers neatly placed on podiums and in sunlight all around this building.” 

She huffed. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” he confirmed as he cleaned the wound. Kageyama kept an eye on her as he did. He wanted to see whether or not she would flinch or muffle a scream. Cleaning always hurts the most. To his surprise, he only saw (Y/N) flinch once or twice. 

_She must have a high pain tolerance or some leftover adrenaline. I remember the first time I was shot and it had to be clean. I almost screamed my head off before the sedation kicked in._

“You’re kind of famous around here,” he continued. 

She laughed and looked outwards to the crowd who was skillfully avoiding eye contact. “Hey,” she said out to them. Their heads snapped to her. They paid attention and responded to her as if she was Tsukishima. “If you want to ask me something, you can. I’d prefer it to all of you whispering around me. Are all of you Tsukishima’s...friends?” 

Friendly. _Way_ too nice for Tsukishima. 

A small semi-circle formed around her. However, they keep their distance. Probably to show her some kindness or respect, but no one wanted to be the person to make her uncomfortable or scared at the risk of facing Tsukishima. 

(Y/N) was, in a way, a myth to them. Sugawara was the only person to have met her and knew her name (requested by Tsukishima that he didn’t blab it out to everyone so early), but everything else was rumours and bits and pieces of information Tsukishima had let slip. All they knew for sure was that she owned a flower shop (not which one though) and had caught the attention of their boss. 

“I’m (Y/N), by the way,” she added. 

There was a chorus of hellos. 

“Tsukishima’s kind of our boss,” Hinata said blushing. 

“Oh,” she said. “Is he like a CEO of something? A manager?” 

Tanaka blinked. “He’s more like a leader. Did he—Did he not tell you what he... _does_?” 

(Y/N) frowned. “He told me that he works in finance and private security. But since all of you pointed _guns_ at me and the fact of how calm he was getting shot...I’m pretty sure I’ve been lied to.” 

“Sorry, about the guns,” Kageyama interjected. He took the wrapped gauze from the kit, lifted her arm, and started to finish up by bandaging the wound. It wasn’t deep or long, so only time would heal it. “It’s kind of a gut reaction.” 

“I’d say it was okay, but I, uhh, don’t really know how to react. I’ve never been around these kinds of things before…” she trailed off. 

Kageyama could feel the entirety of the room collectively wince. Dangerous situations and the acceptance of an early death were their entire lives. It was Tsukishima’s life. He had fallen for a girl completely clueless about the things that they did. 

“All done,” he said. 

She looked down at her arm. “Thank you.” 

He nodded. Kageyama took full notice of her appearance now. Her jacket that hung off her other arm would definitely have a hole in it now, the left side of her pants and shirt had dried blood painted on it, and both of her hands were covered with it. 

“Would you like to clean up?” Sawamura offered, reading Kageyama’s mind. “We could get you a change of clothes too.” 

(Y/N) looked down at herself and looked back up to Sawamura. She seemed hesitant but smiled at him anyway. “Yes, please.” 

“Come on, I’ll show you.” 

The rest of the members waited until they left the room to begin talking again. 

Kageyama smiled to himself. He was glad that he stayed. Things were starting to get interesting again. 

Nishinoya let out a low whistle. 

“What?” asked Hinata. 

“Boss is in so much shit when he wakes up.”

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Tsukishima's eyes opened, which he took as a good sign—he wasn’t dead. (Y/N) had gotten to Karasuno. Tsukishima could tell from the thinness of the bedsheets that he was in the small infirmary that they had. 

Though it was only Tsukishima’s leg that had been shot, pain coursed all throughout him. It was like his veins were made out of fire and he was trapped in a fragile man’s body, every movement hurt more than the last. 

The ruffle of another blanket caught his attention. He wasn’t scared. This was Karasuno. The only place on Earth where he felt remotely safe. Tsukishima stilled when he turned and saw (Y/N) lying on the bed beside him. Her back was turned against him, but he’d recognize her anywhere. 

He was tempted to reach out to her. 

_She hadn’t left. She stayed._

(Y/N) turned and their eyes met. The world had stopped for a moment. 

Slowly, she sat up on the bed, her legs dangling over the edge, and hands were pressed under her thighs. She wore different clothes than she had before. They were baggy over her body. The shirt she wore looked familiar though. The edges of gauze poked out beneath her sleeve. 

“You were hurt?” 

“Just a little,” she said. “I’m okay. I didn’t really feel it. My hand hurt a lot more than this.” 

A long pause took over the room. He shifted in his bed. Even when they first met things have never been awkward or weird between them. It was like he lost something he didn’t remember getting or wanting in the first place. 

“How are you feeling?” (Y/N) asked. 

_Terrified_ , he thought. Terrified of where this conversation could lead too. His palms were clammy and he had to curl them into fists to keep them from shaking. This could be the last time she would ever speak to him. 

“I’ve been better.” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

Tsukishima cringed. How much did the others tell her? “Did they…” 

“Spill all your secrets?” She mused. (Y/N) still smiled at him. Another good sign. “No,” she continued, “one of them offered though. I wanted to hear it from you and you did promise me that you would. I don’t know how much you remember, but you did.” 

He nodded. “I remember. What time is it?”

“Last time I checked? A little bit past three in the morning.” 

“Oh... Were you trying to sleep?” 

(Y/N) let out a huff of air as if she knew he was actively avoiding the topic. “Not really. It's hard for me to sleep in places I don’t know.” 

Tsukishima used his arms to move into a sitting position. It took longer than it should have, but he wasn’t going to have this conversation lying down. “I’m sorry for lying to you. It won’t happen again.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “As far as apologies go...that’s not a bad start. Are you sure you have no more dirty little secrets you’d like to share with the class?” 

He grinned, but let it falter a little. This was supposed to be a serious moment, but he always found that it was hard to keep his smile away from (Y/N). It came so easily to him when she was around. There were tiny secrets that he didn’t want to share yet, things he still needed to sort out for himself. Still, he shook his head. “No, no secrets. I plan to live up to my promise, so what do you want to know?” 

(Y/N) sat up straighter. “Well, you obviously don’t work in finance. At least the kind that I thought of. And the other people? The ones I’ve met? They tell me that you’re their boss. So, what do you do exactly?” 

Exactly? He hated the part of him that felt like lying again. _What am I supposed to tell her? That I literally tortured someone minutes before our first date? That I have nightmares and feel so much guilt about the things I’ve done? The things I will do in the future?_

“If I tell you,” he said slowly. “There’s no going back. Are you okay with that?” 

“I guess? I think...that if you don’t tell me then our relationship, or what's going on between us, is going to end one way or another. And I don’t think I want that. Do you?” 

“No,” he said. Tsukishima took a deep breath. They weren’t hard words to say, simple and to the point, but he still felt the bitterness in his mouth as he said, “I am the leader of the Karasuno gang.” 

He could see the realization dawn on her face. He swallowed. (Y/N) squirmed and grimaced in her seat. 

“Do you hurt people?” 

Tsukishima sighed. “Yes, but not innocent people.”

“Innocent people to you? Or innocent people to the world?” 

It was his turn to squirm. He never thought about that. The people he killed weren’t innocent. The one that Sawamura brought in that day had attacked someone and knew about the person who was responsible for the other ones. It had been the right thing to do. 

“I don’t enjoy doing it,” Tsukishima said. “I never have and never will. But if I did hurt people, to get information to help someone else or prevent something bad from happening, then that’s not something I will apologize for. I don’t make or go into decisions recklessly. I can’t because I’m responsible for everyone outside and in this building.” 

(Y/N) stood up. _This is it_ , he thought, _she’s going to leave...and I wouldn’t blame her._

She stepped in between the spaces of their beds and sat down again near Tsukishima’s legs. He shifted over as much as possible to give her more space. She took a part of his blanket, clutched it in her hand for a second, turned it over, and traced the pattern on it. She repeated that motion for a while. Not once did she meet him in the eye. The longer she stayed silent the more nervous he became. 

Tsukishima never pushed her to say anything. He couldn’t tell how much time passed until she spoke again.

“Do you plan on doing this forever? Or…” 

She didn’t have to say the words from him to hear them. _Or until you die._

“I don’t,” he answered. “I feel like I want a lot of things in life. I just haven’t found out what they are yet.” 

(Y/N) nodded. Her eyes targeted the spot beside him. He unconsciously moved over to make as much room for her as possible without falling off the bed. She crawled into the space beside him and rested her head on his pillow. Their arms brushed against each other. 

“I’m happy you’re okay,” she said staring at the ceiling. 

“I’m happy you're okay, too,” he said glancing at her. 

“I’m never going to be okay with what you do,” she whispered. 

He swallowed tightly. “I wouldn’t want you to be.” 

(Y/N) closed her eyes. “Don’t think you’re off the hook. I still have a ton of questions. Maybe I should make you write a paper or an essay.” 

Tsukishima smiled and closed his eyes too, trying to capture and remember this moment. His pain was forgotten. “Anything.” 

They laid together peacefully for a moment. “Kei?”

“Yes?”

“Do you actually hum while you water the flowers?” she mused.

He froze. 

_I’m going to murder those guys._

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Tsukishima woke up for the second time that day by someone shaking his shoulder. The darken curtains had fragments of light between the cracks. He felt the warmth of (Y/N)’s body against his. At some point in the night, she had curled into a ball at his side with a hand flat on his chest. He smiled lazily. This was something he could get used to. 

“What time is it?” Tsukishima rubbed his eyes and then adjusted his glasses. He never liked it when he fell asleep with them on. 

Sawamura stood beside him. He looked at Tsukishima with a mix of amusement and urgency. A wheelchair was parked in front of him. “A little after eight in the morning.” 

“Are we going somewhere?” he asked, but wordless savoured the last moment of restfulness. His job was never done. Carefully, trying not to wake (Y/N) as he untangled himself from her, and with the help of Sawamura, sat down and propped his leg up on the chair’s leg rest.

“We got the blood result back,” Sawamura said. 

“And?” 

“It belongs to someone named Yamaguchi Tadashi.” 

He frowned as a wave of anger rushed through him. This was the person who attacked (Y/N). This person was the reason she’d have a scar on her hand for the rest of her life. “We need to find him. Have Kinoshita and Nishinoya—” 

“Tsukishima,” Sawamura interrupted. “He’s going to be here in an hour. We sent Hinata and Kageyama to get him.”

“Excuse me? You’re bringing him here?” 

“Yes,” he said confidently. “He’s been looking for a way to contact us actually. Nishsinoya caught word of it and set something up. Yamaguchi claims that he comes peacefully and only wants to talk.” 

Tsukishima scoffed. “And you believe him?” 

He stole one last look at (Y/N). She had already adapted to his absence and was fiercely hugging a pillow. He let himself smile one last time before giving the okay to Sawamura to move.

“We’re going to follow every precaution,” Sawamura assured. “We're going to put blackout curtains on your window, blindfold him on the way there and back, take long unnecessary turns and stops. Everything.” 

He clutched his jaw. 

“He said that he was going to tell you anything you wanted to know and help in every way possible.” 

“Betray his people,” Tsukishima said disgustedly. 

“Hey,” Sawamura said, turning the wheelchair to face himself. They were in front of the elevator now, probably going up to Tsukishima’s office/room. He needed a shower and a change of clothes. “We don’t know the full story. Something could have happened. But if we want to make sure these attacks stop and to double-check our information. We need him. Do you want more people like (Y/N) to get hurt because of those losers.” 

“That was a cheap shot.” 

Sawamura smirked, gave him a light shrug, and pressed the call button for the elevator. “You needed to hear it.” 

He glared at Sawamura’s smug look. “Why not at the warehouse.” 

“It’s too open. He’d be able to see you were injured.” 

“When he’s in the building, I want someone in front of the infirmary as long as she’s sleeping. Let’s not forget what he’s capable of just because he can _possibly_ help us.” 

He nodded and backed Tsukishima into the elevator. Sawamura composed himself and pushed the button to the top floor. “Everyone likes her.” 

“They do?” 

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “She was really nice to everyone the night she brought you in. You could tell that she was scared, but offered everyone her name and told them if they wanted to ask her anything then they could.”

Tsukishima smiled to himself. 

“I offered to answer any questions she had, but then said she wanted to hear it from you. I’m assuming from the way I found you two this morning that this went well?” 

His cheeks burned. “Better than I hoped.” 

“That’s good.” 

“Sawamura?” 

“Yes?” 

“Thank you.” 

The elevator _dinged._

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

It took Tsukishima to shower and change clothes a lot longer than he thought it would. He’d never been shot in the leg before; twice in the arm, once in his lower abdomen, but never in the leg. 

His windows that lined the entire wall behind him were covered with blackout curtains, obstructing his normal view of the streets and skylines below. This was the room where he felt the most comfort. He kept it clean and neat. The only things that filled the room was a black couch, a floor to ceiling bookcase that covered half of the left wall, and his desk that stood in front of his windows and faced the door. The only light in the room came from the artificial ones in the ceiling. 

The only item that looked odd in the room was a clear glass vase that sat on the far right corner of his desk and held a bouquet of peach roses from (Y/N)’s store. She had given them to him on the day Sugawara took her stitches out. It added some much-needed colour to the room. 

Tsukishima had changed his shirt to his usual shirt, tie, and jacket, leaving out the change in his pants. He would be sitting behind his desk the entire time so there was no point in it. He had to look like nothing had happened in the last few hours. Appearances were everything. If this Yamaguchi person changed his mind, then Tsukishima needed to look as if he were ready for battle. Even if all he wanted to do was crawl back into that small bed with (Y/N). 

Tsukishima had asked Sawamura to stay. He wanted a second pair of eyes and ears just in case.

“Is it too late to reschedule?” he asked. 

There was a knock at the door. Kageyama and Hinata stood on either side of a blindfolded boy. Tsukishima signalled to them and Hinata took it off. Yamaguchi squinted his eyes, adjusting to the light. His nose and parts of his eyes were bruised. Silently, he cheered (Y/N). Tsukishima was right. In the small glance that he caught of Yamaguchi, he looked young—and he was. Yamaguchi couldn’t be more than sixteen. 

Kageyama pushed him down into one of the chairs across from Tsukishima. 

He gave Kageyama and Hinata a nod and they vanished through the door, shutting it tightly behind them. 

Tsukishima couldn’t resist the urge to glare at Yamaguchi, and he felt a small spark of pride when Yamaguchi cowered under it. 

“Hi?” Yamaguchi said. 

He didn’t respond. 

Sawamura nudged him. 

“Why are you here?” he glowered. 

Yamaguchi pushed his shoulders back, trying to make himself look more confident. “I have information you might want.” 

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes. “And what do you want for that information.” 

“Nothing.” 

Tsukishima shared a look with Sawamura. Did he really want nothing? Never something for nothing. 

“Why are you freely giving out information? You do know that that could get you killed.” 

Yamaguchi nodded. It was the first time he looked sure of himself. “I know. I don’t care.” 

Tsukishima balked. He officially had no idea what was happening. He was prepared to be haggled for money or information of his own, to be yelled at, or have someone who would put up a fight. The boy he saw attack (Y/N), though scared, had a fight in his eyes. The boy who sat in front of him today had nothing, the look Tsukishima knew all too well.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice softened ever so slightly. 

Yamaguchi took a sudden interest in his hands. “The night I hurt that girl”— Tsukishima stifled a flinch— “and you stopped me, I had to report that. I thought that it was fine. People get caught all the time and I was even instructed just to injure someone not kill them. Two days after...I found my sister dead in our apartment. And when I told my boss, she didn’t say anything. She just shrugged it off like it was nothing.” 

“You think it was her?” asked Sawamura. 

Yamaguchi’s head snapped up. His eyes burned with fire. “I _know_ it was her. The only reason I joined was to help my sister.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I needed the money and she knew that. She _knew_ that. I don’t have a reason to stay there anymore. All of my reasons died with my sister.” 

Tsukishima and Sawamura shared another looked. There was a chance that he was lying. He could be playing them, but something told Tsukishima that Yamaguchi wasn’t. He knew the ruthlessness of other people. Yamaguchi’s boss could have wanted him to leave her organization, wait for a screw up from him, and then kill Yamaguchi’s sister for fun. Kill her for barely any reason at all.

“So, you do want something,” Tsukishima said leaning back against his chair. “Revenge.” 

Yamaguchi stilled then began to nod his head. “Yes.” 

“Okay.” He paused. “Would you like something to drink? I think we’ll be here for a while.” 

Yamaguchi furrowed his eyebrows. “Sure?” 

“Yamaguchi?” 

He blinked at his own name, surprised that Tsukishima knew it. _Still so naive. Gang leaders know everything they need to._ “Yes?” 

“Next time you meet with someone, make sure you wear something more respectable than jeans and a hoodie.” 

Once they had their drinks, courtesy of Sawamura, the atmosphere lightened. He would never forget what Yamaguchi did, let alone forgive him either, and Tsukishima would need (Y/N)'s opinion for that too. She was the one who paid the price in the end. But Yamaguchi needed help, and Tsukishima promised to himself a long time ago that he'd always be there for those who needed it. 

“Shall we get started?" He paused and glanced over to the flowers at his table. "And Yamaguchi? You’re always going to have something to lose. Don't delude yourself to think otherwise.”

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Epilogue**

The woman had taken a large swig of her whiskey. She had never been one for alcohol but she enjoyed the burning sensation that ripped down her throat when she drank it. She shook the near empty glass in her hand, the ice cubes _clinked_ against the sides. Maybe she should splurge and buy a nice, expensive, bottle of champagne. 

There was a knock on the door. It was one of her lackeys. He was holding something between his arms. “This came for you?” 

She narrowed her eyes. “How?” 

The boy shook. He was one of the younger ones that had joined—in need of something, money, girls or boys, always something they could get from her. 

“What are they?” she snapped

“Flowers,” he replied. 

“Flowers?” she deadpanned. 

“Yes. We checked them. It’s addressed to you, too. There’s a card.” 

She walked up to him and snatched the bouquet out of his grasp. “You can go.” 

Turning it over in her hand, she inspected the flowers. She already detested them. The cluster of tiny yellow petals — if she could even call them petals— made her want to vomit. Who would send her such an atrocious flower? 

She took the card in her hand and threw the flowers onto her desk. Her name was on one side of the note, the penmanship was neat and clear. An elegantly vicious smirk grew on her face. She’d recognize that handwriting anywhere. 

She flipped it over and her smirk only grew. 

Hitting the call button on her desk, she sat back down in her chair and gulped down the last of her whiskey. Not a moment later, the same boy poked his head through the door. 

“Did you need something?” he asked. 

“Yes. Buy me the most expensive champagne you can find.” 

He nodded and left without a word. 

She left the card on her desk and went to collect a champagne glass. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

_Tansies:_

_A declaration of war_

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! I’m sorry that it’s late…..again… on the plus side, this is a long one! It’s about 24 pages, so that’s great! 
> 
> I had so much fun writing this one! I know the ending is kind of a cliffhanger but there’s probably not going to be a third part. I might write one for myself because I adored this world and characters or if one of you requested another part…
> 
> If you have any questions about this one or the last one you can ask me if you want! I know a third part would fill in more info and wrap loose ends but be warned that even then it might not be up until much later than this one. Bacon and I have so many to do. 
> 
> If you have any questions about this one or the last one you can ask me if you want! I know a third part would fill in more info and wrap loose ends
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading! - Kiwi


	36. Lost in- What Word? Pt 2 - Akaashi Keiji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Single Parent
> 
> Requested
> 
> Word Count: 2.7k+
> 
> Disclaimer: Fem! Reader, Time skip spoilers, just fluff

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Another Saturday rolled around and the open field of the nearby park was close to empty. It was partially cloudy outside, letting the sun pour out periodically onto the grassy field. You kicked back, keeping a lackadaisical watch over your bags while trying not to fall asleep from the warm blanket that the sun gave you. The gentle heat that was settled into your stomach wrapped around your sides in a hug, it made it difficult to keep your eyes open and watch your son practice. It definitely didn’t help that in the moments when your eyes were open, your attention was mostly captured by the sturdy movements Akaashi made as he coached Naoko, and not Naoko himself.

This was one of those moments. Back facing you, the older man fell into a deep lunge, one leg stretching out further than the other. With his hands clasped together in an arrowhead shape and arms strengthened underneath his slim-fitting t-shirt, the ball fell right into the fleshy part of his forearm, bouncing high into the air with a satisfying smack. You quickly turned your gaze away toward the incoming dark clouds, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Nice spike, Naoko!” Akaashi encouraged.

You looked back to the rally that was taking place before you, smiling at Naoko’s large grin as he hit every ball with the near-perfect ability that had been developing over the past few weeks. Something hitting your cheek stopped you from spouting your own support for your boy. Looking up to the sky, your eye was assaulted by the same light sensation. Within seconds it began to pelt your skin harshly.

“Mama, it’s raining!” Naoko cheered, spinning with a large grin in his quickly soaking clothes.

You screeched at the feeling of cold water seep through your shirt to roll down your spine. Quickly, you grabbed the three bags off the ground, wrapping your arms as tightly around them as you could. From the corner of your eye, you could see Akaashi swipe a giggling Naoko off the lawn and point in the direction of the street. Naoko thrashed around happily in the older man’s arms.

The strong rain continued to stab into your skin as the three of you sprinted. Once at the dark-haired man’s car, he set Naoko down and began patting down at the non-existent pockets of his track shorts. “Keys,” he muttered repeatedly before spinning to pull his back out from your arms.

With the back door quickly swinging the door open, Akaashi lifted the young boy off the ground and pushed him into the back seats before helping you load the bags. The rain continued to pour down your back in small, cold waves. You shivered as the last bag was thrown in and the two of you began to round the sides of the car, hoping into the front seat.

Akaashi turned on the engine and cranked up the heat as you spun in your chair to try and dry off your son’s face, using your thumbs to wipe at his cheeks. “Keiji, do you have any— uh, clothes.. no, towels in here?” you asked.

He groaned, ruffling his hair to shake the water out. “Sadly no.”

A dissatisfied hum escaped you, as you spun back to face the front of the vehicle, listening to the rain as it bounced off the metal exterior. A roll of thunder echoed in the distance, soon followed by a flash of lighting. You sighed, “I guess we’re stuck here for a bit.”

Akaashi pulled the dar out of its lane, hand coming to rest behind your seat’s shoulder as he reversed. “I’ll drive you two home,” he said, smiling at Naoko as his eyes skimmed over the boy’s damp cheeks, “how are you doing bud, cold back there?”

Naoko hummed defiantly, shaking his head quickly, sending a few stray droplets of water Akaashi’s way. “Can we go play in the rain some more?”

You tried not to laugh.

Akaashi shook his head, finally pulling into the open lane, and faced the steering wheel. “Sorry kiddo, no can do.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Akaashi felt a tingle tickle the back of his neck as he flipped through the storyboard sketches that Udai had prepared. The pages were messily put together and had misspelt notes covering the margins. Akaashi stared at a crude sketch of a newly introduced character on the page, trying not to laugh at the silly expression before flipping the sheet over.

"I think it looks good," he said, eyes skimming over the last page.

"Really? Not too bland? It is sort of a filler chapter," Udai yawned quietly as he splayed out on his chair as much as possible.

"I think you've included enough information that it isn't redundant."

"Wow. Thanks," the artist scoffed.

Early morning checks-ins, though required in the name of productivity, often left the undesirable feeling of doing a whole day's work in just under an hour. So when Akaashi stepped out of the small meeting space and saw that the sun was still high in the sky, he couldn't stop the audible groan that escaped him.

Chiyo laughed lightly, "long day?"

"The day's hardly started," Akaashi sighed, carding a hand through his hair, ruffling it at the back of his head. "I just want to sleep. I had a long weekend."

Ena gave the editor a smirk, "had fun with (Y/N) I presume."

"Oh shut up, Ena," Chiyo chuckled.

Akaashi slumped into his spinny chair, making it squeak at the fast movement and extra weight. Despite facing the other way, the light pouring through the window was incredibly bright, making him squint uncomfortably as he glared Ena's way. The other man gave him a conniving smirk.

"I wish that were the case. But not quite, I was dragged out by one of my friends to play volleyball yesterday. Apparently, their setter got bailed out and they needed a substitute. Everything's sore." Akaashi let out a pained groan, stretching his casual blazer covered arms above his head. He peaked a look over to your cubicle glancing at the unruly organization of sticky notes and pens that touched every surface except for your frames and monitor screen. "Where's (Y/N) anyway?"

"Naoko caught a cold, so (Y/N) is working from home today." Chiyo let out a pitiful whine.

The door to Udai's office opened slowly as the artist finished her sentence. It creaked as a mop of wavy black hair poked through. His nose pushed against the edge of the door as his eyes peaked over. "Poor baby Naoko is sick?" He asked, voice curling upwards. “If I could, I would make him some warm stew.”

“If you don’t get back to work you’ll fall behind,” Chiyo warned, not taking her eyes off of the large screen she drew on. With his frown becoming an unsightly grimace, Udai rushed back into his little office, berating himself for taking his eyes off of the paper for even a second.

Akaashi continued to stare at the empty seat on the other side of the frosted cubicle, biting his lip. He sighed, turning on the monitor on his desk, just barely ready to face the work he had to do for the next few hours.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Yukie opened the door, giving the taller man a familiar curled grin as she gestured for him to enter the apartment. He noticed the tall ceiling that had a fan hanging down from it and the plain couches that were covered with a soft-looking blanket. To his left was the open kitchen, where he carried over the stiff bag that he had been holding tightly onto. Yukie coughed, still holding the door open as she kicked on her shoes, umbrella in hand.

“I’m off to see some old friends,” she said. “I would say not to burn the place down, but it seems you brought food. See you.” The door shut gently behind her.

Down the hall, in Naoko’s room, you placed a cool towel against the boy’s forehead. “ _ You really shouldn’t have played in the rain when Keiji dropped us off, now you’re sick _ .” 

He moaned tiredly in response, trying to turn his head to feel more comfortable, nearly letting the towel slip. Shimmying the heavy fabric back into place, you let the tips of your finger trail along his hairline, feeling for his raised temperature as you soothed him. “ _ Oh sweetie, it’ll be okay _ .” You pecked his forehead lightly, grabbing the empty glass that sat on his bedside table and tucking his soft orange blanket over his shoulders. “Go to sleep, it’s okay.” His eyes were already half-closed and you were rising to your feet when the door opened.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Akaashi pitched, having waited a few moments in the hallway to listen to the melting tone of your voice as you spoke to your son in words the editor couldn’t understand.

Awe immediately filled your stomach, fluttering like little moths trying to find the nearest light. You watch as the man bowed slightly in the doorway before taking a few steps to meet your side. Leaning down, the back of his hand came to cup the younger boy’s cheek. Your eyes widened as Naoko's head fell limp in Akaashi’s palm, nuzzling into the strong muscle beneath the man’s skin. The strange feeling nagged at you again, making your lips pull into a pursed smile.

“He played in the rain didn’t he?”

“Even after I told him not to. Maybe he would’ve listened to you better,” you chuckled, crossing your arms against your stomach as your brain took a moment to switch back to the staccato paced language, different from your native tongue.

“It’s a shame though,” Akaashi said, walking to the door, hand coming up to hover behind your back. “I brought some warm soup for him to eat, I guess it’s just us then.”

The both of you walked toward the kitchen/livingroom split, and Akaashi gestured for you to sit down as if he were the host instead of the other way around. He reached into the cabinets to pull out two bowls.

“Let me help yo—”

“You’ve done enough today by taking care of Naoko. Let me at least do this for you.”

The light soup, despite not being the sick one in the house, warmed you up easily as it’s delicate flavour ran over your taste buds with each spoonful. The two of you ate in silence, listening to the rain that spat against your windows with every gust of wind. You didn’t even realize that you had asked for seconds before the bowl was once again placed in front of you by one of his sturdy hands. 

You quickly looked up to inspect the sharp corners of his eyes that smiled at you without needing any assistance from his mouth. The stare you were holding was quickly diverted to the bowl in front of you.

Before you even had the chance to notice Akaashi’s adoring gaze or the syllables that were about to fall off his lips, you blurted out.

“Thank you, Keiji. For everything.” You looked up just in time to see his mouth shut, waiting. “I honestly couldn’t be more thankful for everything you’ve done for us, I can’t put it into words.” You furrowed your brow as you maintained eye contact with him. “No, I seriously don’t know the words in Japanese. Don’t expect me to start spouting out a haiku for you just yet.”

He chuckled lightly, letting the melodic sound dance into your ears, making it even more difficult to put the right words together. You could feel heat burn the skin of your cheeks.

“I want to repay you somehow, so how abo—”

“How about  _ I _ take  _ you _ on a date?” he asked, leaning his elbows onto the counter.

You gulped, completely unable to get the words to escape you, and nodded.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Naoko, as you noticed over time since his initial meeting of Akaashi, has grown in unprecedented ways. Now, seven years since he was born, those small insignificant memories from when he was little had slowly faded into your subconscious, despite their images being engraved into your brain in those earlier years. 

Your lip swelled from the bite mark you left as you watched him bounce on the wooden court, heals never planting into the ground.

Yukie, the sports-loving and nutrition enthusiast, was the first substance added to this boy of a chemical reaction; introducing Naoko (and by association you) to the keep up sport at the ripe age of three. Working with athletes on a day to day basis and being near them since middle school gave the maroon haired woman a leg up in understanding in comparison to non-sporty parents. As soon as she was able, she took on the position of something akin to a soccer-mom. Helping you enroll Naoko in sports as soon as he was able to walk.

At the time, Naoko never seemed all too interested in volleyball itself. More attracted to the notion of being able to bounce something around. It at least kept him away from your phone. But as he grew older, and people began to notice that he wasn’t originally from Japan, Naoko’s outer shell seemed to build a bit, only opening the door for a stray volleyball to roll in. He was so shy.

Akaashi, so similar in some respects, made an unknowing catalyst in the young boy’s reaction. Suddenly and rapidly evolving the young, shy boy into one whose outer shell had carved out a bigger door, letting more things in, and a lot more out.

At the beginning of the volleyball season, only a couple weeks ago, Naoko’s coach came up to you after a practice, asking if the young player would be interested in moving up a level in the club, joining the representative (Or Rep) team for his age group. Naoko had stared at you like a tiny tawny owl until you agreed.

Now, you sat on the small metal bleachers set up for parents to watch their kids play, letting the excitement bubble in your stomach as your eyes trained on the young boy set a ball up into the air for his teammate to spike into the opposing club’s side of the court. The blue and yellow ball smacked into the floor after flying over the short net.

“Good Job!”

Your vision, as the players set up for the next serve, shot to Akaashi who was standing next to you, hands open on either side of his mouth as he yelled out in support. You smiled as he sat down again.

“Thank you for inviting me to come watch him play.”

A laugh escaped you as your hand waved defiantly. “To be honest, it was Naoko’s request. I was just the messenger. Besides,” you prompted, gesturing slightly to your son, who’s smile tore at the corner of his squishable cheeks, the largest you’ve ever seen from him. “He wanted you to see his first ‘real’ game.”

Akaashi’s charming grin was hard to look away from and at. 

“You know,” you continued, nodding over at the larger man that stood on the opposite side of the court with the rest of the players. “His coach told me that Naoko was a true prodigy after his try-out.” You bit your lip as you looked down at your fiddling fingers, feeling the light throbs begin to push against the back of your eyes. “Volleyball makes him so happy, and for him to know that he has talent is only pushing him further.  _ God _ , he’s only seven and he’s already told me that he wants to be a volleyball player.”

You sniffled, hands clenching each other tightly. “I owe you so much Akaashi, you don’t even realize.”

His larger hand came to pull yours apart before holding the closest one gently in his palm. Letting his thumb swipe over the back of it. “You don’t owe me a single Yen, (Y/N). But hey,” he said, making you pick your chin up to face him. “If he wants to be a professional, I know a few cool guys he might want to meet.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I think about the fact that some of the people that have read our one-shots might share them with their friends or have a platform where they are popular, and it scares me and makes me happy at the same time.
> 
> Also, we changed our upload date to Sunday because it works better for Kiwi. - Bacon


	37. Headline Pt.3 - Kuroo Tetsurou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Parent 
> 
> FEM! Reader
> 
> Word Count: 2k
> 
> *I don’t know much about motherhood or surgery tbh….so please suspend your belief a bit :) thanks 
> 
> Also! Please read the ending author note!

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

_ “Is Kuroo Tetsurou done with volleyball?” _

You never hated your bed so much. There were times when your only wish was to be lying in your bed, but ever since your doctor put you on bed rest for two weeks after you gave birth, you never resented it more. Especially when it meant that Kuroo would be lodging in your apartment. 

You tried to convince him to go back to Tokyo, claiming that he should think about his career and that he couldn’t abandon it. However, Kuroo didn’t even seem fazed as he brushed you off and stayed.

Honestly, you felt a little suffocated. You went from months of being by yourself to having two more people crammed into your tiny apartment. 

All you heard was Kuroo making conversation with your neighbours and the loud shrieks of Naoko when he wanted something. Luckily, you had Mei—sent from the heavens—Mei who watched your son when Kuroo got groceries or when you needed an extra hand. 

What you resented the most was not being able to sooth your son. When you’d hear Naoko cry, your first instinct was to get up, go to his crib, and hold him, but you couldn’t. 

You cherished the moments when Kuroo or Mei brought Naoko to you and you were able to hold your son until your arms went numb. In the time you got alone with him, you’d ask Kuroo to clean up the apartment, make meals or do random tasks. 

After the first week, you started to feel a little guilty. Kuroo never said no to you. Maybe because he was scared that he’d mess up and you’ll kick him out, but it was more in the way Kuroo held his son. Of course, you saw love and affection in his eyes, but Kuroo held Naoko as if he was going to break and slip away from him.

If the two of you were either going to rekindle your relationship or from something new, he couldn’t be scared of you. 

“Why don’t you take Naoko out?” you suggested. 

Kuroo froze in his spot. He was leaning down, hovering over the opening of the crip and playing with— the now— awake Naoko. “Out? Like outside?” 

You laughed and picked up your phone from the nightstand. “Yes. It’s a nice day, and both of you should get some fresh air. And it’s not like I can do it, so you should.” 

“Right,” he said and bolted from the crib into the living area where the stroller was. “Of course, fresh air.” 

He brought the stroller into the room and picked up Naoko from his crib. He held him in his arms for a bit, contemplating. You could hear him whisper, “you can go out in your pyjamas. I do it all the time! It’ll be fine.” 

Carefully, Kuroo placed Naoko in the stroller and settled him in. 

“Could you send over Mei on your way out?” you called out. 

“Yup! We’ll be back soon!” 

As you waited for Mei, your eyes went to the headlines in the news. It felt natural to you, to go to the sports sections in the news and laugh at the things you saw in it about yourself and Kuroo. But these ones made you freeze. Every other headline had Kuroo’s name in it. He had missed a game. Accusations played his name as being fired or quitting volleyball. 

It made your heart hurt a little. 

“(Y/N)?” 

“In the same place as last time,” you said with a sign and put your phone down. 

Mei smiled as she entered your room. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay. I wanted to ask you something though.” 

“Is it about Kuroo? I think you should talk to him.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “How—?” 

Mei laughed and took hold of your hand. “I can tell. You’ve been...a little demanding of Kuroo, which I understand and kind of agree with, especially after everything that happened. But if you keep doing that, then it’ll slowly, but surely, break apart in front of your eyes.” 

You nodded and raised your hands to rub your eyes. “He still means a lot to me, Mei.” 

“I know,” she said. She stood up and leaned forward, kissing your forehead. “You rest up a bit. I’ll make some food before the boys come back. We’ll talk a bit more.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Kuroo had been walking on eggshells since he came here. 

He didn’t want to misstep or make a mistake. His heart jumped when you sent him out with Naoko. Around his son, he didn’t have to be anything other than himself. There were no eggshells or broken glass. 

He knew, and he hoped that you knew, that couldn’t last forever. For the sake of the two of you and Naoko. 

With sad eyes, he turned to Naoko with a small smile. The little one looking around, taking in the scenery of the park. Then a leaf fluttered down from one of the trees and landed on Naoko’s face. 

Naoko burst into tears. 

Panic flooded through Kuroo. Quickly, he pushed the stroller under a vacant tree and reached for Naoko who had tear stains streaked down his face. Kuroo pulled Naoko into his chest and cradled him. 

“It’s okay,” he soothed, “it’s a leaf. You’ll be okay.” 

After a while, the smile was back on Naoko’s face, his nose scrunched as he laughed. 

Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he was truly alone with his son. He couldn’t do much but admire Naoko as he looked around in wonder once again. The smallest dimple in his cheek, the way his big eyes shined, Kuroo could even feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. 

Kuroo tried to memorise every inch of Naoko’s face, knowing that one day he’ll be all grown up and look different. He could almost picture Naoko’s future face smiling and laughing with him. 

_ He already has my eyes, _ he thought,  _ and (Y/N)’s smile.  _

At that moment, Kuroo knew. He wanted to be a part of everything. Every moment, every memory. He remembered his words to you at the hospital,  _ I’m all in. I want this.  _

“Let’s go back to Mommy,” Kuroo whispered to Naoko and brushed his lips against Naoko’s cheek, sending him into another fit of laughter. 

Kuroo never wanted anything more.

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

When Kuroo returned without Naoko, you almost had a heart attack. 

“He’s with Mei,” Kuroo said quickly. He walked over to your side of the bed and sat down beside your legs. 

You let out a breath of release. “Why is he with Mei?” 

“I want to talk to you.”

You bit your lip. “About?” 

He looked at you softly and then moved his gaze to the crib. “I love Naoko so much. I could look at him all day and never be tired of it. He had barely lived and I already know that if something were to happen to him it would tear me apart.” Kuroo let out a low chuckle and returned his eyes back to you. “Actually, I’ve felt that before with someone else too” 

You shifted. “Kuroo, now isn’t—” 

“Now has to be the time,” Kuroo said with conviction. “Now  _ has  _ to be the time because if we don’t talk about it now, then it’s just going to get pushed off and it’s never going to happen. (Y/N), I’m staying with Naoko forever. And that will be hard if you hate me.” 

“I don’t hate you,” you said. You patted the spot beside you. Already knowing what to do, Kuroo went over your legs and crawled into the spot. He sat close enough to touch, but he didn’t. You smiled, and leaned into him ever so slightly, just enough for your shoulders and upper arm to press together. “I’ve been meaning to apologise.” 

“Apologise? For what?” 

“I’ve been really harsh on you,” you admitted. “I guess I was a lot angrier about...what happened than I thought I was. I didn’t let myself be angry after because I had to take care of myself and Naoko. I told you I would try, and I haven’t been. For that, I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t answer. You glanced over to him and he was already looking at you. His eyes were so much like Naoko’s.

“Will you go out on a date with me?” he asked. 

“What?” 

“Not now,” he said easily. “When you can leave this bed and it’s a good time for Naoko and when Mei is free because she’ll have to babysit, may I go out on a date with you?”

“Kuroo…” 

“Our problems aren’t going to be fixed, mended, or healed if we don’t talk to each other,” he started. “It’s hard talking with Naoko with us because it doesn’t open up the floor to potential yelling”— you snorted — “or conflict. I meant what I said too, (Y/N) (I want to remember this summer lol). I’m all in. I don’t want to miss Naoko’s first word, day of school, or his first heartbreak. I want all of it. If that means we live in this apartment, then I’ll sell mine. Or if you want to move back to our apartment, that’s fine too. But I don’t want Naoko to grow up with us against each other. We should be a team.” 

“It’s  _ your _ apartment, Kuroo,” you whispered. “I can’t go backwards.” 

“Then we’ll stay here.” 

You hesitated. “Have you seen the news?” 

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. The hopefulness in his eyes slowly faded. “No?” 

“People have been asking where you are. You missed a game. You can’t just quit and I don’t want you to give up volleyball. I saw how hard you worked for it.” 

Kuroo shook his head. “That was a life where both of us were in it. The past few months when I wasn’t with you seems like a bad dream. I love volleyball, I always will, and I want to play it for as long as I can, but that comes secondary to you— and know Naoko. I work hard for a lot of things, (Y/N). And you and Naoko are on the top of my list.” 

“Don’t worry,” he said after a while and seeing the hesitation in your eyes, he knew you too well. “We'll make it work. We always do.” 

You smiled. “Then I would like that date.”

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested by someone, Headline Pt.3 :) 
> 
> Once again, sorry that it’s a tad late, but that kind of brings me into my next point. 
> 
> Unfortunately, school has started and the university course work is so much more than high school course work. I’m already a little behind in some of my stuff. That being said, things might be a little different around here. 
> 
> Both Bacon and I want to keep writing these oneshots, and I’ll try my best to keep with our original schedule, but school has to come first for me. This means that Bacon might double up on weeks or (if worst comes to worst) we might skip my week.
> 
> I’ll still upload Bacon’s one-shots to AO3 as they come!
> 
> I’ll definitely be writing parted ones that we have planned, like the part 2 for “Crashing into you” and pt. 3 of “The language of flowers” but all other ones are in the air right now. 
> 
> Thank you for understanding and hopefully, I’ll either get a good balance of school and it’ll be back to normal or I’ll have breaks coming up where I can write. 
> 
> Thanks again - Kiwi 
> 
> That being said, we’ll try to keep updates as consistent as possible, even if it means the one-shots become a bit shorter.
> 
> Also, the kid being named Naoko is a total fluke and Naoko has become our generic kid name. It’s not connected to Akaashi’s story. -Bacon
> 
> Yes...even though I read through all of the one-shots…. My brain is fried - Kiwi


	38. Pumpkin Spice - Miya Osamu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Regular, coffee shop(?)
> 
> Server Collab (I'll link it at the end of the story)
> 
> Tags: GN Reader, swearing, time-skip spoilers
> 
> Word Count: 9.2k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Working at a cafe in the middle of the busy streets of Tokyo’s business sector often led to many customers in need of a nice brew and in association, tips. Lots of tips that often fell into your pocket at the end of the day. The pay was good enough and made up for the moderately long commute from your campus that you spent sleeping on the train. On top of that, your boss was the nicest and most supportive old woman in downtown Tokyo. 

The interior of the cafe was soft and homey in comparison to the reflective silver exterior of the building outside. Seats with red vinyl cushions filled the open area leading to the wooden top counter that you worked behind, mixing up whatever ludicrous drink they asked for. The customers loved you. You loved the money. It was the best.

It was sunny that day, people were smiling for once as they walked to work for once. The traffic was light, people weren’t running late, and to top it all off you had just gotten an email that morning with the mark for your latest assignment, a perfect grade.

“We’re closing.”

“Like, just for today, right?” you asked Juri, brows furrowed as a disbelieving smile pulled on your face as if you were being pranked. She gave you a sad look. “Right?” you repeated, pouring in a measured amount of coffee beans into the espresso machine.

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry,” Juri gasped. “The building owner jacked up the renting price and I just can’t afford it now.”

You reached behind you for the counter, gripping it tightly between your fingers as you pulled yourself closer to slump onto it. A dull ache began to grow right between your eyes. “Don’t apologize, Juri. There’s nothing you can do. I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s a lie,” she spoke after a moment, skating over the thin ice that froze over your conversation. “You can spend more time studying now at least, university gets harder in your final year.”

“University’s the reason I needed this job though.” You walked around Juri’s stout form, reaching for the coffee machine, grabbing hold of a mug and readying yourself for the freshly pressed beans. “I have to pay for it somehow.”

“(Y/N), darling, maybe a three shot espresso isn’t the best thing to have right now.”

You gave the old woman a sour look over your shoulder before shooting back the mug of dark bean soup. Immediately, your tongue tried to escape your mouth. “Oh god, you,” you gagged momentarily. “You were right. That was horrid.” An uncomfortable shiver ran over your shoulders and through your spine.

Juri’s wrinkled hand came to rest over the black strap of your apron that hung desperately to your shoulder, squeezing it tightly to the point of bruising. She pulled you down roughly and flicked your forehead with her nail. “Stupid,” she chastised. 

Walking to the sink, she grabbed the mug you held and rinsed it out before handing it back to you, filled to the brim with cold water. She rubbed your back, encouraging you to suck back the water to rid the bitter taste from the corners of your mouth. “If you want, I’ll write up a letter of recommendation for your resume.”

“I’m not sure whoever would hire me would take the time to read it, no one uses reference letters anymore. But thank you, I’d appreciate it.”

She smiled, making the wrinkles on her face shift slightly. “Anything for you sweetheart. Besides, you’ll need every advantage you can get with your horrid cooking.”

On your last day of work, Juri sent you off into the dark streets of Tokyo with a notebook filled with homebrew, baking and cooking recipes —the last two being one’s you have never and likely never will touch— and a container of cookies that she had made that morning. 

The book, in and of itself, was innocent enough. A relatively mute earthy colour palette that made flowery designs from one edge to the other. But, you knew there had to be some secret spells of torture within the pages, or just something that you’d injure yourself with.

Not even a day later, far into the night, a sugar-covered cookie was left forgotten on your table as you scrolled through job listings on your computer, occasionally getting distracted by the scantily clad fictional characters that promoted a game on the edges of the webpage. You reached for the cookie, shooting your eyes back to the list and scrolling.

Your dorm was rather modest, more like a small apartment when compared to some of the other dorms on campus though. Which admittedly saved you money and made it more expensive at once. With your own kitchen and modest living space attached to a bedroom and bathroom, you successfully managed to isolate yourself from any other students in the building for just an extra fee. Luckily, having a kitchen meant that the school didn’t supply you with food, saving you money, but also leaving you starving since the only recipes you had in your head were for coffee. Moment’s spent in your kitchen alone with a grumbling stomach sometimes made you wish you were roomed with another person, or had taken the university's food plan. Curse your late teenage pride. 

The walls were off white, surrounding a room filled with mostly dark furniture —namely navy— and reflecting the light that came off your computer screen. They made large shadows against your floor and walls. Your two fingers swept along the mousepad, moving the dry list up your screen. You bit into the cookie, quickly scarfing it down and clawing for another, mumbling to yourself as you skimmed over all the nanny jobs, and full-time positions. Corporations that would likely not give you enough pay were quickly forgotten, also.

The neighbours above you were playing study music rather loudly, letting the smooth sounds seep through the walls gently, it made you want to sleep, they probably had an essay to work on. You sighed, rubbing your eyes before sparing a glance at the time displayed in the corner of your screen. 1:32 am. Swallowing down the tired taste in your mouth, you swiped your fingers harshly against the pad, entirely too tired to do any more thinking and letting the loading screen of the website choose your job for you. You threw your head back, slumping into your seat with a worried wince, desperately hoping that you wouldn’t regret it.

You squinted at the top result of the most recent listings. “Huh.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The black uniform wearing man scratched his head through his matching, logo crested hat, making it shift slightly to reveal his dyed hair underneath it. You sat silently on the plush stool at the counter as the older man — _ he couldn’t be much older than you, could he? _ — skimmed through your resume lightly before reading the reference letter Juri had written for you. The sweater he wore tightened at each opening, puffing out into what looked like a cozy crewneck. Definitely not the most common uniform for a food establishment, but you wouldn’t complain, it was starting to get colder. He rested his elbow on the counter-table, turning the top of his stool to face you directly.

“You’ve never worked in food before?” 

The open-concept space of the man’s restaurant/cafe seemed to close in rapidly, making the light brown tables and decorations blend in with the white walls and red seats. The colours spun in your vision, blurring all your surroundings except for the tall, hunched man in front of you. He seemed to pop off the screen of your static vision with a halo of light surrounding him. You blinked rapidly, mentally shooing away the loopy visions. There wasn’t enough sleep in your system. That and it felt like you were about to be penalized. 

Noticing his intense, stoic eye-contact, heat from your stomach rushed up to your cheeks and ears. He had pretty, grey eyes. Your lungs vibrated under your sternum as you tried to suck in enough air to speak. A bashful smile crept onto your face as your fingers fiddled together, occasionally dragging the pad of your thumb over the length of your nails.

“If I’m being honest, I’ve never been very good in the kitchen. Juri, my old boss, wouldn’t let me help her with baking the pastries because I would always burn myself. I’m working on it though.” That was a lie, a total lie. You weren’t working at it at all. You continued, laughing at yourself, “Because of that, Juri always had me doing beverages. So when I saw you were looking for a barista, I applied.” Well, that was only a partial lie.

The silver-haired man chuckled lightly, “I received your request for an interview,  _ your request _ , 5 minutes after I posted the listing.”

Biting your lip, you reached for a napkin from one of the dispensers as you forced yourself to maintain eye contact. He seemed to enjoy watching your fingers fiddle with the limp piece of paper. You coughed, “Is that a good thing? Cause my desperate self is in need of a job. I’ll even risk burning my hands off if that’s what’s needed.”

He laughed again, taking the black, curve-rimmed hat off his head and set your papers down next to it on the sleek wooden counter. “(L/N), relax. I am looking for another barista, I had my previous one go work at our second location because it’s closer to home. So I’m short-handed and know only the basics about coffee, and with winter fast approaching I need help.”

You ripped the tissue paper in your hand in half before compiling it and stuffing it quickly into your pocket. “Does that mean I’m hired? Cause I need to pay for my tuition.” He watched, an amused smile pulling at his face, he stood up gesturing for you to follow him. With an awkward grin, you followed his silent instruction. 

The rectangular counter you were sitting at wrapped around the back corner, creating a two-metre space walkway that led to the bathrooms and cut off an unlabeled wooden door from being easily accessed by customers. You followed his steps, watching his black Adidas sneakers step over the lines of the large wood floor panels. He opened the wooden door, gesturing you inside, before pulling a box off of the shelf that sat against the back wall and dropping it onto the counter next to a sink. Pulling out a cozy-looking crewneck sweater with a proud and yet desperate smile. 

“This is the kitchen and break room,” he said, throwing out an arm to the rest of the large space, before walking back over to you, sweater and cap in hand. “Can you come in tomorrow? I can show you the ropes.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“I’m sorry Miss, but we don’t have that drink here, it's not the season yet.” You smiled apologetically at the older woman who was digging through her bag in frustration. You hated telling customers little white lies, the feeling dug at the sides of your stomach each time you had to. It was becoming more frequent with October fast approaching.

“I’m sorry too,” she replied, letting her purse drop onto the counter with a smack. “My daughter has been nagging me all day to pick up one of these drinks and no one has it yet.”

You flexed and clenched your fist underneath the counter before adjusting your cap to try and give the woman a confident facade. “We’ll be getting the ingredients next week, so hopefully she can hold off until then. For now, would you like some onigiri? They’re freshly made.”

“Please.”

After ringing up the woman’s total and sending her out the door with a wave, you turned to your co-worker with an anxious grin. Taichi scoffed in response, openly laughing in your face. “You have to stop lying to our customers!” he berated with a lopsided expression.

“I know, I know! But I hate seeing them annoyed or upset. I can’t help it that they keep asking for a drink that we can’t make!”

The 1st year university student (who you quickly found out went to the same school as you) chuckled, leaning against the onigiri display. “What are the ingredients for it anyway?” he asked, watching you rest your hip against the counter next to the cash register.

“One cup of pumpkin puree, half a cup of sugar, half a teaspoon of pumpkin spice seasoning but that’s optional. That’s to make the pumpkin sauce. Then you need a quarter cup of pumpkin sauce, two ounces of espresso, eight ounces of milk, and then whipped cream and cinnamon on top,” you listed, staring off onto the floor.

“You have that memorized?” Taichi asked rhetorically, mouth hanging open.

You crossed your arms. “I’ve been working as a barista for over 3 years now. You start to remember things.”

Taichi lifted his hat, taking a moment to ruffle his straight cut black hair before setting it back down on his head. “Well, you can just ask Miya to order some, right?”

Snapping your finger, you sent the younger boy a finger gun with a pensive look pulling your eyebrows upward, “I hadn’t thought about that.”

On your next shift, after an early morning lecture about the global economy and stock market (which you tried not to sleep through), you walked into the break room to find your silver-headed boss curl over the edge of the small round table in the corner of the room while sitting on the old futon next to it, hair tousled in an oddly pleasant way. His hands moved quickly as he scribbled into the papers before him, the tight grip on his pen making his muscles flex slightly in his arm, that was made visible by his rolled up sleeves.

You quickly looked to your shoes, trying to calm your breathing down. “Um, Miya,” you called lightly, trying not to startle him. Nearly dropping the pen in his hand, he looked up. “Sorry,” you said, pulling your hands into the sleeves of your uniform.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m almost done,” he said, watching your fidgeting hands. “Did you need something?”

“Pumpkin sauce.”

He gave you a strange look, nose scrunching as a single eyebrow lifted. “Pumpkin sauce? Oh right, that’s a thing isn’t it?” Miya said as if just remembering the time of year, looking away from your wiggling fingers to the empty kitchen across from him.

You gulped. “Yes, for pumpkin spice lattes. A lot of customers have been asking about it.”

He raised the other eyebrow in your direction, trying to strangle down a teasing laugh. “You lied to the customers didn’t you?”

“I might have told a little white lie so they wouldn’t get upset.”

Miya sighed, holding eye contact with you for a moment, before signing the last sheet of paper in front of him with an entertained smile. He looked back up while gathering the papers into a neat pile. “I’ll get an order in by next week.”

“Thank you.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Why did you ever decide that philosophy was a good thing to take in university? Seriously. What were you thinking? You stared at the empty document before you, blinking tiredly as you groaned.

Aesthetics. The first unit that your professor chose to discuss for a university-level because it’s likely the easiest to discuss. The essay itself was more introductory than anything. The instructions were to write an essay about how aesthetics and attraction to particular aesthetics are created, how society plays a role, and finally, your own personal stance.

You clearly remember glaring at the young professor when she said she wanted to gain a deeper understanding of each student.  _ That’s for high school _ , you thought, mentally going over the three years of university you’ve already suffered through.  _ Then again, maybe an easy grade.  _ The only downside was that even though you’ve gone through nearly a decade and a half of school, you’ve never been good at writing an introspective piece.

“Professor Suzuki, How introspective should it be exactly?” you had asked her after the lecture had finished.

She gave you a sharp pointy smile with a light, slow shrug. “However much you think is needed. But I do want to learn about you and your experiences.”

Your brows were pinched together tightly, as you tried to understand. “So like an attraction autobiography?”  _ That's deeply concerning.  _

She never did give you a clear response after that. Dancing around the direct answer you needed to hear.  _ She must’ve been a high school literature teacher at some point _ .

A self-deprecating chuckle escaped you, making the younger boy who was lazing about on your couch turn his attention away from the tv. “What crawled into your pants?” Taichi asked, pouring the last remains of your chip bag into his mouth.

“I have to write about stuff for a philosophy essay.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of an essay?” The empty chip bag crinkled loudly in his hands as they folded the plastic messily.

You scowled at him. “If you’re going to be a smart ass you can stop eating my food and go back to your dorm.” Standing up from your kitchen counter, you scanned the junk-filled counters, eyes landing on the small carpet patterned notebook that sat sadly on the corner edge.

Taichi ran up from his seat, pleading for you to not send him out, claiming that his roommate was mean and hogged up the whole space. You partially ignored him, letting his yapping ring numbly in your ear as you flipped through Juri’s old recipe book.

“Wanna help me make cookies?” you asked, turning your head his way and effectively cutting off his rambling.

He paused, letting his bottom lip hang open before snapping it shut in a cautious sneer. “You’re deciding to bake? I’d rather risk getting bullied by my roommate. Bye.” He ran out of the dorm.  _ Ran.  _

“God, my baking skills don’t warrant that kind of a reaction, jeez,” you huffed to yourself, slamming the notebook shut. No longer in the mood to experiment in the kitchen.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Did the new rice come in?” the blond asked, letting his whole torso lie flat on the short table extension of the main counter.

The light click of a plate resonated in the empty restaurant. “You’re lucky,” the grey-haired one said, monotone response making the other look up to the large, meat-filled onigiri waiting for him on the porcelain plate. “Fresh shipment just came in this morning.” At the entrance of the building, the bell attached to the door sang lightly as it opened. Notifying your entrance, while a cool autumn breeze rolled past you. “Speaking of shipment. (L/N), the pumpkin sauce came in!”

You unravelled the scarf around your neck as you walked, giving your boss a large grin that made him gulp slightly. “Really? That's amazing, Miya..” The blond, noticing the other man’s reaction upon your entrance, spun in his chair, making his honey brown eyes meet yours. “There’s t-two. Two of you?” The scarf you had taken off sat limply in your hand as you stared off blankly at the two identical men.

“(L/N), this is my brother. You can call him Atsumu.”

The blonde sent you a small vibrating wave and a smirk, leaning his elbow against the counter as he tilted his head in your direction. With tightened brows and a tight, awkward smile, you nodded in response, bowing as your hand began to grip your colourful scarf a bit tighter. The blond followed up his brother’s introduction. “If you’re gonna call me Atsumu, you might as well address him as Samu.”

“Samu?” You questioned.

Over the table, ‘Samu’ smacked his brother with the black cap from his head. Hitting his shoulder with a loud smack before facing you. “Osamu is fine.”

You nodded hesitantly before bowing again. “Call me (Y/N), then. The both of you.” Facing your silver-haired boss, who still gripped his black baseball cap tightly between his fingers, you pointed to the back room with a meek smile. “I’m gonna go put my stuff down. Sorry for being a bit behind. I was up late working on an essay.”

Osamu nodded. “Sure thing, I have a new recipe for you to try out when you come back out,” giving you an understanding smile before ushering you off to the back, watching the folds of your jacket move with each step. He gulped. As soon as your back fell behind the door frame's edge, he weaponized his flimsy hat again, making the older twin howl as the top button hit his temple.

“What was that for?!” the fake blond screeched.

Osamu sent him a deadly glare. “Don’t flirt with my employee. They’re too young for you.”

“We’re the same age, Samu,” Atsumu teased, as he dropped his voice a couple of semitones. “I don’t see you restraining yourself.”

Atsumu left Onigiri Miya with a number of small bruises running along his hairline that morning. Though, he refused to leave without sending you a request to watch his upcoming game. “I want to have everyone watching,” he said, forgetting to even tell you what you’d be seeing, leaving his younger twin to take the burden.

You sat on one of the red plush stools, swinging it side to side and Osamu stood on the other side of the counter, onigiri filled plate in hand. He wore a hesitant grin as he set the plate down in front of you. Then, he started talking as he walked around the counter. “They’re slightly different than the ones I usually make so they look a bit weird, but we had the ingredients so I thought I'd play around with the different flavours.”

The store was empty. As expected for an early Saturday morning. It was also windy outside, making the inside of Onigiri Miya feel that much warmer as the howling wind ran loudly against the glass wall of the entrance, occasionally making the polyester awning above the entrance flap around like paper.

You gave him an encouraging smile as he walked around your seated form, nearest hand brushing over the length of your shoulders through the black sweater. A chill ran down your spine as his hand fell from the end of your shoulder. He sat down beside you, spinning the stool to face you head-on, much like how you both were during your interview. “I’m sure they taste great. What are the fillings?” you asked, reaching for one-half of the two pairs of onigiri on the plate.

“Well, since the pumpkin sauce came in, I figured I would play around with it a bit,” he said, reaching for one of his own.

Once you bit into the centre of the rice ball the smooth sweet flavour of the sauce rolled over your tongue. The orange sauce dyed the rice on the inside, making the colour soak in the individual grains. You let the flavour sit on your tongue for a moment. “Were you going for a sweet onigiri?”

Osamu chuckled a bit. “Kind of. I made the other one more savoury though.”

You looked at the other slightly misshapen onigiri on the plate, then up at the maker of them, meeting his eyes with a kind supportive smile. “The choice is yours,” you said, taking one off the platter and taking a large bite out of it. “But I think they’re both pretty tasty.”

“Really?” he asked, resting his elbows on his knees, leaning toward you in earnest. “Not too sweet or bland?”

“They’re perfect. Just like the chef who made them," you complimented happily.

Osamu flushed slightly, trying to pout as he chewed away at his onigiri. "You don't have to be so nice, they still look a bit lopsided."

"Does the appearance of the food really matter? I thought the taste was the biggest factor," you teased lightly. Whenever you made a brew for a customer, most never really cared if there was a cute design sprinkled on the top, or if the layers were visible from the side of their plastic cup if they took it to go. All you ever focused on was the taste, and when the 7 am rush comes through, patrons are typically too tired to even care about the look so long as they get their dose of coffee in.

"Do you never look at the exterior of things? Most consumers judge their first impressions of things based on their appearance. Like book covers."

You furrowed your brow. "I've never really thought about it. A lot of the books I read are digital now so there's no need for a fancy cover."

"What about people then," he prompted, leaning further forward, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. His normally grey eyes seemed to hold tints of the honey brown from those of his sibling. "Have you ever... let's say, been attracted to someone based on their appearance alone?"

Your gaze shot back and forth between his eyes and the fringe of his silver lightly brushing over his eyebrow before finally settling on his left, blown out pupil that started more directly at yours. "Maybe subconsciously." It came out in a light whisper.

The bell at the entrance rang, a ragged, tired looking suit-clad woman wobbled in. Eyes blinking slowly as she waved her hand in the air. "Light roast, double shot espresso with whipped cream! I am running late!"

You shot out of your seat, knocking off Osamu's hat by the brim with your own, before grabbing a mug from over the counter and rushing to the mixtures. "On it!"

"Thank you," she panted, handing her card to Osamu to ring up.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Your head and shoulder twitched as you bounced on your toes outside the glass wall of Onigiri Miya. The wet concrete and frozen air of the early morning made the idea of curling against the polished glass with your face tucked into your scarf all the more tempting. Another silver tickled your spine.

Groaning you spun around to face the golden brown and red streets. Wind carried the dry leaves over their drowned sibling until falling into a puddle themselves. You closed your eyes, trying to redirect the heat in your body to your hands that were tucked into your pockets, clenched tightly.

Something cold lightly smacked against your nose and eyelids.

Cracking your eyes open, your lashes pushed against a brown decaying wall that blocked out all the light of the early morning. When it was away, leaving a cold residue behind, the light made your squint.

“You're here early,” the silver haired man said, tossing the old leaf over his shoulder before pulling a collection of keys from his coat pocket and gently tucked you out of the door with his free hand. Opening it up, he placed the keys into his back jean pocket.

“Did you just give me a face mask with an old leaf?”

“Sure did,” he said, matter-a-factly. “Why are you here so early? You’re not a morning person.”

You followed him through the glass door, letting him take the responsibility of flicking off the lights as you pulled your coats and scarf off. “You said today was your brother's game, I didn’t know what time, so I figured I'd be here a bit early.”

Mouth open, Osamu stared at you without blinking, as if searching for a joke. “You know most post games happen in the evening right?”

“So I’m here early for nothing then.”

The two of you walked through the empty restaurant, coats slung over your arms as you conversed.

“I wouldn’t say nothing,” he teased, hanging up his coat on the hanger in the back, lifting the bottom hem of his shirt slightly. “You get to work.”

“Yay,” you yawned, reaching for your uniform sweatshirt.

“For money.” He added.

He had trouble making you laugh throughout the morning, only receiving yawns and frustrated pout in response as you made coffee for all the equally tired customers.

You’ve never seen a volleyball game before, only ever having tried to play during gym class in high school. On top of that, you never understood the rules, but you blamed that on the phys ed teacher rather than your own inability. 

The live recording of Astumu’s game was being played on multiple sports channels. It got pulled up on the large screen of the tv that sat against the wall 30 minutes before the game even started. Osamu stood with you and Taichi —who had made it to work at a reasonable time to watch the game—, explaining the rules and positions over layers of customer chatter, as he made onigiri in view of the game instead of in the back where he normally worked. He pointed to the screen.

“That’s Hinata in the opposite hitter position. He pretty much does the same thing as Bokuto,” he shifted his arms angle to point to the duo-tones haired player on the screen. “An outside hitter.” Then, facing you, he watched as your nose scrunched in thought.

“What makes them different, then?” Beside you, Taichi nodded along, handing a customer a plate of onigiri.

“Their orientation with the setter,” Osamu replied. Before letting out a loud cheer, fist clenched and elbow tucking quickly into his side as his brother scored another point.

You let out a loud, exasperated laugh, shaking your head slightly. “There are a lot of rules and stuff you want me to memorize.” On the other side of the counter, a girl came up to stand in front of you, asking for a pumpkin spice latte. “Sure thing. Taichi, ring her up for me would you?” you asked, making your way to the coffee machines that sat along the length of the counters, continuing to talk to Osamu. 

You looked at the available ingredients. “We’re gonna need more pumpkin sauce.” 

“I’ll order it. Is it that confusing?” He asked, following you to the machines.

Mug in hand, you gave Osamu an unsure look as you reached for the whipped cream, stretching your arm only to knock it farther away. “A little? But at least their mascot is cute.”

“The black jackal?” he laughed, taking hold of the whipped sugar and placing it in your open palm, to which you smiled in thanks. He quickly diverted his gaze, staring at the blank walls as he bit inside of his cheek. “Didn’t even bother to listen to me ramble then, too busy gushing over the cute mascot. I thought visual exteriors weren’t important to you.”

“Oh shut up, I was listening,” you scoffed haughtily, smacking Osamu’s shoulder as you walked past his tall figure to give the girl her mug. “And he was interacting with the young fans, it was cute.” You looked at the clock. “It’s 6:30, I’m gonna take my break. I got an essay to write.”

Taichi laughed mockingly. “Good luck. We’ll hold down the fort.”

Osamu watched your back as you walked away, adjusting his hat as he turned to face the upcoming customer that had just walked in.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Bake at 450? Oh, that's Fahrenheit? Why, though? Okay, got it. Oh shit, did preheat it too much then?” 

Juri, as lovely a lady as she is, had terrible handwriting, or terrible in your opinion because you couldn’t read it. Whether it was a letter, or note for an order of cookies and bread, the intricate curls of her connected lettering always made your brain feel like it hit a brick wall. Holding the book in your right hand, you used the other to carry the tray of separated butter cookie dough and hooked your foot underneath the oven handle to pull it open. Still glaring at the writing, you slowly lowered the metal tray onto the racks.

“Hey, (Y/N)! Can—”

“Fuck!”

Taichi let himself in, turning the corner of your kitchen counter to quickly pull your hand away from the immense heat source. You clenched your teeth tightly, airy and painful laugh falling through your grimace. Dropping the notebook, you wrapped your hand around your left wrist, squeezing it tightly as Taichi helped you stand up. An endless series of insults left you, directed at the large cubic fire instrument.

“Okay cold water, here we go.” Taichi then left your side to finish tucking in the metal tray, silicone glove on his hand. He turned back around to see you hunched form leaning over the running sink, choppy breaths flying out of you. “Why are you baking?” he scolded.

“Oh, I can’t bake now?”

“You’ve never been able to bake.”

“Oh screw you, dude. I’m trying to learn a new skill.”

“Learning how to kill, more like it.”

Hand still stuck under the cold running water, and pain still crawling up your arm like red ants deciding to feast on your flesh, you slowly turned your head to face the younger boy, smacking your lips. You glared, “Why are you here, Taichi?”

The new university student dug his socked toe into the tiled floor of your kitchen. Pursing his lips and sending you a pair of finger guns as soon as he met your glare. He lowered them when you didn’t laugh. “I was hoping you could take care of my closing shift tonight? I have a group assignment due tomorrow and no one did any work.”

Spinning your head and torso uncomfortably to look behind you, you stared at the clock on your wall. You bit your lip. “Taichi, your shift starts at 6.”

“Uh, ya.”

“It’s 5:30.”

“Uh-huh,” he continued, barefaced, as he tucked his hands into his jean pockets.

“You're working here and waiting for the cookie timer to go off.”

Taichi nodded, moving his feet to look at the oven counting down. “Okay, got it. Do I get to eat some of them?”

You sneered at him as your blistered hand throbbed painfully at the movement of you grabbing your things, notebook included, in haste. “If they don’t kill you.” 

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Osamu! I’m so sorry for being late!” You yelled rushing through the main door and startling a few customers. You ran towards the staff only door unravelling the warm scarf from around your neck and letting your jacket fall off your shoulders as you went. 

Osamu’s eyes followed your frazzled movements, chuckling lightly as you kicked the wooden door open. He yelled through the door as you changed into your cozy uniform. “Calm down, (Y/N). You’re not late. Taichi called in too, so don’t worry.”

You poked your head through the door, brows pinched in the center before slowly walking up to stand next to him. “So I’m not late?” you asked, adjusting your hat. 

The customers had gone back to their individual activities, typing away at their computers or reading whatever book in hand or chatting over a simple brew and snack Osamu had put together for them. You looked out the front window, the sun was already beginning to set over the darkening leaves, letting a warm glow pour in through the glass to cover every surface inside the cafe despite the temperature outside being the opposite.

The evening was spent with both of you helping the late-night customers with their requests, often having to dance around each other's forms with a light ‘ _ sorry’  _ or ‘ _ excuse me’  _ to notify the other.

“Thank you both. Have a good night!” the last customer called, waving, as they walked through the door.

Osamu waved back as you collected the mugs and plates that were left at the tables, taking them to the back room. “I’m gonna wash these up then take my break. Is that alright?”

“No problem, we probably won't see anyone else for the night so I can handle it.”

The door swung shut behind you. 

When you turned on the tap hot water poured out quickly, and without thinking much of it, you stuck your left hand under it. You flinched, letting out a strangled yelp before switching the water to cold, letting it wash over somehow forgotten burn on the back of your hand. You sighed at your own stupidity, grabbing a dirty plate. Luckily the dishes were quick to clean, the light music you set up on your computer beforehand helped. Before you even realized, the dishes were washed and dried, and you could get some work done on your essay.

You sat down on the couch futon, blowing cold air onto your burnt hand that you switched tabs on your laptop. The constant yawns escaping you only seemed to make lying on the slightly deformed seat way more tempting than trying to get some school work done. 

“Can’t do beauty standards, everyone’s gonna do beauty standards,” you yawned again, taking your fingers off the keyboard and turning your eyes away from the bright screen. Your eyes burned as you closed them, leaning your head back against the back of the folded futon. Another yawn. “Maybe books covers?” you breathed slowly. “Hmmm.”

On the other side of the door, Osamu wiped down the table seats and counters until they were spotless, letting the red vinyl and wood patterns shine through uninterrupted. As he cleaned the glass front, squeegeeing it to crystal clear perfection, Osamu watched as the last bit of sunlight that bounced off the top of the buildings across the street disappeared. It suddenly looked a lot colder in the streets.

Hanging up the damp towel, he made his way into the backroom, flicking off the lights in the main area as he walked through the door. “(Y/N) how’s the essay going?” he trailed off, catching sight of your curled up body lying sideways along the old couch, laptop continuing to play a soft tune.

You had one foot off the couch, touching the floor, and another resting on the wooden armrest. The open legged sweats you often wore were crunched up at the knees. Your torso was twisted so you were partially on your side and your hands were pulled into your chest. Mouth slightly parted, Osamu could hear your small breaths as your chest rose and fell.

He chuckled, walking over to your side, and glancing slightly to your screen. The essay you had been rushing to complete was left open, unfinished. He closed the computer, tucking it into your bag, pulling out a small notebook to make space. The bookmarked page fell open as he set in down on the table. With a curious huff, he read the recipe over.

“Huh, simple enough.”

As he reached to gently shake your shoulder in hopes to wake you up, he caught sight of the burn that ran along the back of your hand. Huffing, he lifted his hand, put the book back in its place —tucked between your laptop and the side of your bag—, and walked over to where the first aid kit was.

A scratchy hum was the first noise you made upon waking up. Bleary-eyed, and drained of energy, you slowly blink up to see your hand being gently wrapped in a soft cloth-like bandage. You squinted up to the black-clothed man as he fastened the bandage together.

“Did I really fall asleep?” you asked sadly, voice slightly hoarse. “I have to… write.”

The light in the room was dreadfully bright, making you squint as you tried to look at Osamu’s face. All his features were hard to see, leaving only his hair as an anchor point for you to admire as the light bounced off of it.

He said something, but in your delirious state, all you could make out was the smooth deep hum of his voice reverberating in your head like a slow waltz. You hummed again, letting out a lethargic ‘ _ nice _ ’. Your eyes shut again, and you drifted off to his low, breathy chuckle. An unconscious mumble followed, but you were too tired to hear his immediate response.

“Come on (Y/N),” he cooed, massaging your shoulder gently. “Time to wake up.”

Another incoherent mumble bubbled out of your mouth as Osamu tried to sit you up. Your head bobbled as you moved to be upright, falling backwards before he could catch it. Chuckling at his own mistake, he stuck an arm out, curling his hand around the back of your neck to bring it forward again. As he cradled your head gently in one hand, he used the other to continue prodding at your shoulder.

“Okay, sleepyhead. You gotta wake up now.”

There are those moments where people wake up and they think they see an alien, or shadowy figure at the edge of their bed. Those scary figures that seemed to carry a negative connotation a majority of the time. Most people, if they were to wake up, eyes fuzzy, and see a silhouette immediately before them they would very likely think the same, flail about, and duck for cover. You were not most people.

Eyelids hanging millimetres away from shutting, you gazed drowsily at the blurry from before you, tired mind trying to put together the dark shape as your body swayed back and forth. Falling forward slightly to get a closer look.

Osamu grunted slightly, catching your limp weight. The hand he used to rub your shoulder had now made its way around your back, lifting you from a different angle. His other hand still protected your neck from strain, holding your head closer to his chest. He looked down at your hazy gaze, perfectly timed with your own sudden need to lean upwards.

A near chortle of a huff forced its way out of Osamu’s nose, painting your cheek in warm air as your eyes shut fully. The feeling of your lashes dancing against the bridge of his nose tickled, making his shoulders scrunched up slightly. His grip tightened, pulling you ever so slightly closer. The light scent emitting off of your hair washed over him like a wave of fresh air, and the heat radiating off your body felt like a warm blanket on a cold night. There was a light tug at the end of his sweater as you wrapped the fabric gently between your fingers. Tough dried from being parted in your sleep, Osamu could feel the malleability of your lips as they pushed against his.

This one last surge forward, you let your arms relax, falling almost entirely limp in Osamu’s arms as you pulled away.

He blinked slowly, trying to look at the colour of your eyes between the slits of your lashlines.

Another warm hum left you was your head curled into his shoulder. “Cute.”

Osamu scoffed quietly to himself, laughing as he shook his head. “You never stop lying.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Osamu liked to think he was a nice brother, a good brother, the best even. He kept his twin out of trouble, made sure he didn’t get injured and protected him from bullies. All for the payment of letting Osamu torment him for all eternity with repeated punches and kicks. Osamu liked to think he was a nice brother, but he wasn’t.

“Assumu, shut up or I’m gonna punch the daylight out of you.”

“Vulgar. That’s a new one, Samu. Try me.”

Hinata grabbed hold of the blond twin’s forearm as he made taunting motions to his brother, pinning it down onto the table. The smaller red-head cried out for the two brothers to stop, calling for Bokuto’s aid.

“Ya, both of you stop it. I’m trying to eat here.”

From behind his white mask, Sakusa let out an exasperated sigh, brushing a hand through his wavy hair at the part. “Would you all calm down?”

Atsumu teased out a laugh as he settled back into his seat between Hinata and Bokuto, who both happily went back to eating their donated snacks. The blonde leaned his elbows onto the counter and bounced a leg beneath him as he looked up to his uniform wearing brother. 

“So,” he drawled, smirking at the grey-haired man. “You kissed (Y/N). While they were asleep no less. Doesn’t that seem kind of rapey to you?”

Osamu groaned, ripping the black cap off his head before throwing his arms into the air. “I didn’t force it! (Y/N) was hardly even awake, definitely in some sort of dreamscape, and then just kissed me.” He groaned again, knocking his forehead into one of the coffee machines, making it rattle lightly.

“Damn,” Atsumu replied, finally relenting his mockery and reached for his own onigiri. “Guess I lost my chance then. Do you know if they even remembered it though?”

Setting down his hat, Osamu walked around the counter, pulling up a chair from one of the tables to sit with the four teammates, making them spin in the stools.

“No idea. I just drove (Y/N) back to the university dorms with Taichi’s help.”

Bokuto’s muffled voice spoke up, as he tried to talk through his full mouth. “How is Taichi doing anyway. It’s been a while since we’ve seen him.”

Osamu grimaced at the visible mushed rice poking out between the duo-toned man’s teeth. “He had a project to finish, that’s why (Y/N) was here last night. Overall he’s been doing good though.”

Hinata swallowed his last bit of onigiri, turning the top of his stool to face the older man more clearly. “When will we get to meet (Y/N), then? We could probably see them both at the same time.”

Osamu scrunched his nose up, digging his face into the palms of his hands and let out a tired, run-down laugh. “Hopefully soon if I don’t get arrested for sexual misconduct.”

Sakusa glanced at the drink orders that were written in chalk against the side wall. “Hey Atsumu,” he switched the subject. “Can you make me a pumpkin spice latte?”

Sighing, the owner of the restaurant got up from his chair and walked back to the coffee machines he had earlier abused with his forehead. “I can give it a go, but it definitely won’t be up to (Y/N)’s standards.”

Sakusa just waved it off, not caring.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“I mean, they’re still bad, but at least they’re better than last time.”

You stopped your slow typing and let out a puff of hot air. “If you actually helped maybe you’d be eating better cookies.”

“Hey hey, no no no,” Taichi laughed, munching into another dry cookie from the pile. “You’re the one that wanted to learn a new skill.”

You threw your head back into the soft couch of your living room and grabbed one of the throw pillows from the corner, shoving your face into it to muffle your angered scream. Running out of air, you dropped the pillow into your lap, shutting your eye tightly as you panted for air.

“Here,” he said, stuffing one of the burnt biscuits into your open mouth. “Eat a cookie.” 

Taking the box of poorly made cookies with him, Taichi stood up from the wooden bench at your kitchen counter and made his way to flop down onto the other side of your couch. He stuffed another straight into his mouth as he kicked his slipper clad feet onto the coffee table right next to your laptop.

“So, What’s got you all wound up? It has to be more than these cookies.”

“I,” you paused, taking a large intake of decaying leaf air into your lungs through the open window. You got up, wiping your hands on your well worn sweats, and shut the window lightly, so the only thing coming in though it would be the view of red leaves. The palms of your hands dug into the window sill. “I need to get this essay done. It’s due in two days.”

“Not buying it. Keep going,” he said, flicking his finger in a circular motion in the air.

You sighed, still looking at the old piles of leaves in the courtyard outside your dorm. “My baking skills still suck, this essay is due in two days, and I still haven’t written the personal reflection portion of it.” You spun around and leaned against the window, challenging Taichi’s disapproving expression.

He tsked, sucking in the air. “There’s something you're not telling me. What happened?”

You quickly diverted your gaze to the top corner near the exit. Your nails made a clicking sound as they flicked against each other. “I, I can’t.”

“(Y/N),” he strained.

“Nope.”

“(Y/N).”

“I can’t.” You played with the bandage on your hand.

“(Y/N). You’re lying to yourself.”

“I’m gonna get fired.”

Taichi stood up from the couch, stalking over in your direction, meaning to pin you into the corner. He stood tall in front of you, arm crossed as if he were a principal. “(Y/N), what happened?”

“I kissed our boss.”

“You did what?”

You squeaked uncomfortably, thrashing your arms about and shaking your hands to calm your nerves. Head thrown back, you yelled. “I kissed Osamu!”

His arm dropped. Taichi threw his back into a curve, spinning around as he laughed wildly in sharp honks. “That’s amazing!” he squealed, throwing himself onto the couch and kicking his feet into the plush armrest.

“Shut up, I could get fired!”

Taichi, gasping for air, sat up from his fit of giggles and sighed. “Okay, what the hell happened?”

You puffed out an annoyed gulp of air and waddled over to the couch, slumping into the open space next to him. He leaned forward, beckoning you to talk.

“I was half awake, delirious after trying to write an essay about fucking aesthetics and attraction of all things. Osamu tries to wake me up, and I plant a big one on him before falling asleep again.”

Taichi laughed, happy to hear your tale. “That’s what happened yesterday? I just thought you were overworked.”

“I was!” He smirked, watching you squirm around. “Don’t take it out of context, you know what I'm talking about.”

“Fine, fine.” He relented and reached for the half-empty box of cookies, holding it in your direction. “Eat one. You need it.”

You frowned as you bit into the over-salted cookie, swallowing it as fast as you could before the taste settled in your mouth.

“Besides,” He said, grabbing another for himself. “I don’t think getting fired is something you’ll have to worry about.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Long night shift. The sun had fully set, making the neighbouring stores’ exterior decorations glow in all their spooky glory. You shivered as you yawned, feeling cold air run over the length of your shoulders underneath your sweater.

With a spray bottle and damp towel, you swiped down all the counters, really digging into the coffee stains that were left by an overworked mother and her grumpy toddler. For the umpteenth time that night, another yawn tore it’s way out of you as you walked toward the sink behind the counter to wash the dirtied cloth. You kept your bandaged hand out of the hot water, doing your best to just use the one.

After ringing out the both you grabbed one of the clean mugs from the counter, stalking over to the coffee machines to whip up something for yourself. You yawned again.

“Tired?” From the backroom, Osamu emerged, hands tucked neatly behind his back.

“Hmm? Oh ya. I’m whipping up a pumpkin spice mocha of sorts. Don’t want to fall asleep again.”

Osamu coughed and leaned against the counter next to you, setting down a small box that you didn’t bother to look at, too busy with your coffee. “Ah, right. Do you mind making one for me too? I’d like to be coherent, tonight. I’ll grab some fresh onigiri too.” He smiled at you.

Trying to beat the heat that was quickly climbing up your neck to try and darken the colour of your cheeks, you bit your lip and poured all your focus into the orange-hued liquid in front of you. Behind you, Osamu reached for the freshly made onigiri from the chilled display case. You could hear the fabric of his sweater shuffle as he bent down to pull it out. You reached for the whipped cream with your eye tightly sewn shut.

“Got it,” he said as you turned around with both mugs in hand.

Once in the back room, you set down both mugs onto the table, before sitting down in one of the corners of the futon, letting him take up the other half. Osamu sat down slowly, pushing the second onigiri your way. “Eat up. You can restore some energy.”

You thanked him before taking a bite from the rice ball, it was filled with spicy salmon. Smiling, you took another bite.

Osamu took a sip from his coffee, trying to lick off the leftover whipped cream from his upper lip. It looked like a small mustache, and you laughed.

“Enjoying the food, over there?” 

You chuckled again. “It’s great, but. Jeez, you have a mustache.”

Osamu grumbled, whipping the top of his lip with his thumb. “Here,” he said, grabbing the small box off the table and holding it out to you. “These are for you.”

Setting down the half-eaten Onigiri, hesitantly took the box between your fingers. You gave him a confused look as you brought it into your lap. Lifting up the attached paper lid, you found yourself staring at a small collection of cookies, iced and cut to look like the adorable black jackal mascot from his brother's team.

“I saw the recipe in your notebook that...night. I wanted to make you something as an apology, and you said that the mascot was cute.” You looked up to see him scratched back of his head, staring pensively into his mug before glancing up to meet your eyes. He flinched back, pursing his lips and racing to look at the mug again.

“You don’t have to apologize, Osamu. I initiated it.” you reached into the box, pulling out one of the cookies and took a small bite out of the jackal’s ear. “I didn’t hate it either.”

You chuckled in embarrassment, watching from the side as his ears turned a rosy colour. Taking another bite from the cookie, you leaned forward a bit, trying to catch sight of his pink cheeks through his hanging fringe. You prodded.

“I did call you cute too, remember?”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Your fingers danced over your laptop’s keyboard.

_ I don’t often find myself thinking about the way aesthetics affect my opinions. Looks, trends, and opinions are always evolving and changing. I don’t have the capacity to keep up with such superficial things in the same way a majority of people do. Though, on a rare occasion, I will find something endearing enough to call ‘cute’. / _

Outside your window, you could see the last few leaves fall off their branches. You sat down, curled up on your dorm’s couch as you saved the final copy of your essay, nibbling away at the cookies that sat on the table next to you, pumpkin spice latte in hand.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Click [HERE](https://pluviophile-imagines.tumblr.com/post/630186225203068928/falling-for-you-this-is-a-sfw-autumn-themed-server) for the link to the other stories for the fall one-shots. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now the longest thing I’ve written thus far, and so the next few I write will be short cause I’m lazy. 
> 
> Once again, this oneshot is part of a fall themed server collab, the masterlist is linked at the top, so I recommend that you give all the other stories a read, I would appreciate it. -Bacon


	39. Semi Eita - Broken Wood Panels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Regular / Holiday (Non-specific)
> 
> Requested (though I did stray a bit, it still follows the concept though)
> 
> Tags/Warnings: Gn-Reader, Time-skip, Mentions of domestic abuse, not heavy, but please be warned, more of a drabble with plot
> 
> Word Count: 1k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Are they still stuck in traffic?”

Eita laid lax on the deep-set couch in the living room, listening to you talk on your phone as he plucked gently at the strings of his acoustic guitar —here by request of your parents. Your one arm was crossed over your torso as you pulled the phone away from your ear, pressing on the button to hang up.

“Ya. Don’t know why they decided today was the day they took the cat to get her nails trimmed.”

Eita clicked his tongue with a stupid grin, ruffling his ash-blond hair off the arm of the couch, before pulling you to sit at his side as you came closer. He chuckled lightly, “I miss Matcha; she gives me kisses.”

Taking the large guitar off his chest, you set it down on the couch’s side before digging an elbow gently into his stomach. “Replacing me with my family cat now huh?” you teased, pinching his nose. “Come help me prep dinner. They won’t be back for a while.”

You took to stirring the soup as Eita worked seasoning into the thawed out meat on the wooden counter. His arm swung up, and with an overexaggerated roar he slammed the dull pointed knife into the meat.

You get out a strangled gasp, spinning on your heel with wide eyes to see the short mullet-wearing man give you an equally surprised (though entirely fake) expression. A snort ripped its way out of your nose.

“Eita,” you chuckled. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“In only good ways I hope,” he purred, giving you a soft smile.

“Seriously.” A three-beat knock came from your parent’s front door. You turned off the soup’s heat. “I’ll get that. Don’t let the soup burn, would you?”

Eita cut up the last few pieces of meat before making his way to the soup, listening to your footsteps pad their way to the front entrance. He stood there for a while, listening to the bubbling liquid as it ran over the muffled conversation outside. Once the soup finally settled he reached for the metal lid to keep it warm.

A loud bang ran through the mostly empty house, followed by the sound of splintering wood from the front entrance.

Running to the door, and groping the metal tightly in his hand Eita found himself unable to push it open. With a furrowed brow and heart pounding in his ear, he grabbed his phone off the kitchen counter and rushed to the front window, moving the heavy curtains to get a look outside.

The view made his stomach churn. With your shoulders scrunched up to your ears and back pressed firmly against the front door, you glared up at a man whose worn out jean clad arms pinned you there. Looking closer Eita could see that one hand was fisted against the wooden door frame, surrounded by splinters and staining the white paint red. Watching the man snarl in your face, unable to go out and help, Eita dialled the short number into his phone. Listening to it ring over the man’s angered screams as he kept an eye on you from behind the glass wall.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You shook violently in Eita’s arms as your parents finally arrived, rushing out of their car, past the uniform wearing cops to come to your side.

Your mother rubbed your shoulder gently, taking you out of Eita’s arms and walking you inside, cat carrier in hand. Eita stood with your father in the doorway, watching the cop car pull away from the curb.

The older man glared. “Damn that, Itsuki. Never knowing when to stop.”

Eita followed the car with a worried gaze until it turned around the corner. “Who was he.”

Your father sighed, biting his lip as he raised a hand to brush over the broken wooden frame, shame pulling at his posture. “(Y/N)’s ex from the end of highschool. It’s really not my story to tell, but, please just be gentle. That boy is horrid beyond reason. Hasn’t changed and years and likely never will.”

Inside, Eita saw you curled up on the couch where he had previously been lounging, head in your mother’s lap as she plucked the strings of his guitar in a nonsensical pattern. “I’ll take over. The soup should be ready but the meat needs to get cooked.”

Your mother nodded, lifting up your head for Eita to slide in instead and grabbing your father's arm and dragging him into the kitchen with a mumbled order. Matcha jumped onto your chest, head reaching up to bump against Eita’s arm.

Eita scratched that cat’s head before switching to let the calloused tips of his fingers brush against the edge of your hairline, cooing gently as you tried to curl further into the heat of his lap, knocking Matcha off your chest and into the curve of your stomach on the couch. “Do you want me to play something for you?” he asked, already picking up his guitar as a tired hum escaped you.

He smiled, brushing his thumb over your eyelid gently, before playing a gentle tune into the almost silent house.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope with was alright, a little rushed, a little short, not much character plot or anything but ehhhhh, the next one won't be much better, I can’t get my mind around writing things at the moment - Bacon


	40. Broken Wood Panels - Semi Eita

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Regular / Holiday (Non-specific)
> 
> Requested (though I did stray a bit, it still follows the concept though)
> 
> Tags/Warnings: Gn-Reader, Time-skip, Mentions of domestic abuse, not heavy, but please be warned, more of a drabble with plot
> 
> Word Count: 1k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Are they still stuck in traffic?”

Eita laid lax on the deep-set couch in the living room, listening to you talk on your phone as he plucked gently at the strings of his acoustic guitar —here by request of your parents. Your one arm was crossed over your torso as you pulled the phone away from your ear, pressing on the button to hang up.

“Ya. Don’t know why they decided today was the day they took the cat to get her nails trimmed.”

Eita clicked his tongue with a stupid grin, ruffling his ash-blond hair off the arm of the couch, before pulling you to sit at his side as you came closer. He chuckled lightly, “I miss Matcha; she gives me kisses.”

Taking the large guitar off his chest, you set it down on the couch’s side before digging an elbow gently into his stomach. “Replacing me with my family cat now huh?” you teased, pinching his nose. “Come help me prep dinner. They won’t be back for a while.”

You took to stirring the soup as Eita worked seasoning into the thawed out meat on the wooden counter. His arm swung up, and with an overexaggerated roar he slammed the dull pointed knife into the meat. 

You get out a strangled gasp, spinning on your heel with wide eyes to see the short mullet-wearing man give you an equally surprised (though entirely fake) expression. A snort ripped its way out of your nose.

“Eita,” you chuckled. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“In only good ways I hope,” he purred, giving you a soft smile.

“Seriously.” A three-beat knock came from your parent’s front door. You turned off the soup’s heat. “I’ll get that. Don’t let the soup burn, would you?”

Eita cut up the last few pieces of meat before making his way to the soup, listening to your footsteps pad their way to the front entrance. He stood there for a while, listening to the bubbling liquid as it ran over the muffled conversation outside. Once the soup finally settled he reached for the metal lid to keep it warm.

A loud bang ran through the mostly empty house, followed by the sound of splintering wood from the front entrance. 

Running to the door, and groping the metal tightly in his hand Eita found himself unable to push it open. With a furrowed brow and heart pounding in his ear, he grabbed his phone off the kitchen counter and rushed to the front window, moving the heavy curtains to get a look outside.

The view made his stomach churn. With your shoulders scrunched up to your ears and back pressed firmly against the front door, you glared up at a man whose worn out jean clad arms pinned you there. Looking closer Eita could see that one hand was fisted against the wooden door frame, surrounded by splinters and staining the white paint red. Watching the man snarl in your face, unable to go out and help, Eita dialed the short number into his phone. Listening to it ring over the man’s angered screams as he kept an eye on you from behind the glass wall.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You shook violently in Eita’s arms as your parents finally arrived, rushing out of their car, past the uniform wearing cops to come to your side.

Your mother rubbed your shoulder gently, taking you out of Eita’s arms and walking you inside, cat carrier in hand. Eita stood with your father in the doorway, watching the cop car pull away from the curb. 

The older man glared. “Damn that, Itsuki. Never knowing when to stop.”

Eita followed the car with a worried gaze until it turned around the corner. “Who was he.”

You father sighed, biting his lip as he raised a hand to brush over the broken wooden frame, shame pulling at his posture. “(Y/N)’s ex from the end of highschool. It’s really not my story to tell, but, please just be gentle. That boy is horrid beyond reason. Hasn’t changed and years and likely never will.”

Inside, Eita saw you curled up on the couch where he had previously been lounging, head in your mother’s lap as she plucked the strings of his guitar in a nonsensical pattern. “I’ll take over. The soup should be ready but the meat needs to get cooked.”

Your mother nodded, lifting up your head for Eita to slide in instead and grabbing your father's arm and dragging him into the kitchen with a mumbled order. Matcha jumped onto your chest, head reaching up to bump against Eita’s arm.

Eita scratched that cat’s head before switching to let the calloused tips of his fingers brush against the edge of your hairline, cooing gently as you tried to curl further into the heat of his lap, knocking Matcha off your chest and into the curve of your stomach on the couch. “Do you want me to play something for you?” he asked, already picking up his guitar as a tired hum escaped you.

He smiled, brushing his thumb over your eyelid gently, before playing a gentle tune into the almost silent house.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope with was alright, a little rushed, a little short, not much character plot or anything but ehhhhh, the next one won't be much better, I can’t get my mind around writing things at the moment - Bacon


	41. That One Time - Iwaizumi Hajime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Soulmate/Body Swap
> 
> Requested
> 
> Warning/Tags: Depictions of harassment, It’s not too explicit but even so be cautious, established relationship, It’s a short one this time
> 
> Word Count: 2k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“(Y/N), would you mind being home a bit early today, we have to go visit your grandmother.” Your mother ran around the kitchen as she tried to get a handle on organizing the dozens of ingredients she had laid out to bake for your aforementioned grandmother.

Licking your lips, you looked out the nearest window to the sunrise that was just hovering over the houses and trees that hid the horizon. You let out a slow sigh, biting into your cheek. “Can’t I just stay at school for a while longer? Or maybe just not even go? It’s not like she’ll remember me anyway with the way her memory is going.”

Your mother gave you an unimpressed look, immediately pulling down the corners of your strained smile. She blinked slowly and let the bottom row of her teeth poke out like a bulldog. “Funny,” she said, grabbing the large bag of flour. “I’ll call you when I want you to come back from school.”

Clicking your tongue you looked away from her gaze and grabbed your bag, hopping a little you get your shoulder underneath the arm strap. “Alright, I’m going!” you called behind you as you forced your shoes on.

“Stay safe!”

You scoffed.

The walk to and from school had never been a totally welcoming one. Living in the crowded part of town where people were often found late at night, you’d often have your fair share of run-ins with rowdy characters that likely let go of their inhibitions. 

The scuttling of rats could be heard in the hidden corners of every alley. Trash rolled over the ground with every gust of wind. You sighed, now wishing you had chosen to go to that boarding school on the clean side of town. At least that way you wouldn’t need to walk through a dumpster fire.

You adjusted the tuck of your shirt into the waistband of your uniform uncomfortably as you felt the stares of loitering groups as you walked by the various bar windows. Hearing a quick whistle behind you, you sneered but continued forward. Not sparing them a glance and you stomped your shoes into the concrete.

“Hope those aren’t law books you're carrying!” another slurred. You could hear them trip over their untied, ill-fitting shoes and oversized pants. An involuntary gag slithered its way to the back of your tongue

The stares seemed to continue burning the back of your neck until you turned the next corner. Not even another step was taken before you blinked your eyes at the fluorescent lighting that suddenly glared at you.

“Iwa! That hurt!”

You sighed internally as you stared at the taller, but hunched over, brunet as he rubbed the back of his head with a clenched fist. A ball bounced off to the side before rolling away. The tension in your shoulders faded as you took in the familiar surroundings.

“You know if you stopped acting like that he wouldn’t throw balls at you as much,” you said, stumbling slightly as you adjusted to the change in your center of gravity while walking over to pick up the colourful ball. 

Oikawa huffed, dropping his arms to rise to his normal height before turning your way. “At least it’s you now, (L/N). I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

You raised the brow on Iwaizumi’s face. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Tooru. I’m gonna go sit down, being in Hajime’s body feels weird.”

Attending Hajime's practices was a frequent occurrence, typically falling in the evening, after school when you were finished with your own club activities. You could spend that time walking home before it got too dark out for rats to be able to hide in the shadows, but instead, you would wait. Hands clammy as you thought of taking a step on the crowded streets.

Hajime showed up 5 minutes before practice finished, thumbs hooked around the shoulder straps of your backpack. The tired smile painted on your face was definitely a reflection of your poor sleep schedule instead of his current mood, as came to your side, slipping your arm into his and pulling you out of the gym and towards your classes.

You stumbled over his feet again, tripping over his ankles as you tried desperately to keep up with his quick steps.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Oikawa, I can’t really play right now.”

Hajime sat with you on the metal bench that was pushed tightly against the gym’s wall, kicking his — your— legs out comfortably. You sat next to your body’s slumped form, picking at Hajime’s dirty, unclean nails. 

Oikawa continued to whine from the middle of the court, ball in hand as he waited for his teammate to join him in warm-ups. Hajime made your body stand, shoulders hunched forward as he stalked to the wavy-haired brunette, ripping the ball from his hands to smack it against his forehead.

Oikawa’s whining was overshadowed by a combination of the coaches rattling and your phone vibrating irritatingly in your bag’s side pocket. Trying to balance Hajime’s torso correctly, you leaned over, reaching for your pocket.

_ Home, Now _

You groaned, flipping the phone off and sucking harshly at your teeth as you turned to see your body, under Hajime’s control, attempting to get a skype over the net. 

“Hajime!” you called, packing your back up. “My mom wants me home.”

Spinning around he walked our way, taking your bag out of your hold and swinging it over your body’s shoulder. 

“Grandma’s?”

“Yup.”

You watched your head lull backwards with a half-lidded eye-roll. “Why today of all days?”

A shrug pushed at your shoulders. Off to the side, you could see Oikawa’s form yawn before looking around tiredly giving you a confused look. “I don’t know. But you better get going, my mom will freak if you don’t get there.”

“It just had to be when we switched, huh.”

You chuckled, feeling Hajime’s familiar laugh ripple through his chest. “We’ve been like this all day, we’re bound to switch back soon.”

Oikawa’s soulmate, quite visibly hunching in the volleyball players form, came up to your side, another yawn pouring out of their mouth as they swung Oikawa’s arm onto your shoulder. “Looks like all of us are swapped. So what’s happening?”

“Hajime has to walk my body home.” You smiled at yourself. “Keep it safe okay, I have to live in that body.”

Hajime hopped, adjusting the bag’s straps again as he pivoted his way to the exit of the gym, ready for the trek to your home. “So do I! I’ll see you tomorrow!” he waved, as he turned out of view on the doorframe.

You and Oikawa’s soulmate spoke in hushed voices as you tried not to disrupt the rest of Aoba Josai’s team silently trying to figure out how each player did their job in a unique fashion.

A groan escaped you as a welt of pain clawed into the back of your head.

“You good there?”

You took Hajime’s hand and rubbed the back of your head, fingers weaving through his spiky black hair. “Don’t know, but I’m about to find out.”

Three blinks were all it took for you to be mentally thrown back into your body, though the movement you were thrown into was not one of your own.

Arm swinging forward, fist clenched tightly in a grip you didn’t know you had the power to do, your largest two knuckles met the nose of a dishevelled man whose body heat was radiating off him, too close for comfort. Your opposite shoulder screamed in pain as it twisted uncomfortably, wrist scraping against the concrete wall as it remained pinned in place, unmoving even with the man staggering from the sudden blow taken to the cartilage in his nose.

_ For fuck’s sake. Today?! Of all days?! _

You were subconsciously aware of your school bag and all its contents strewn across the dirty alleyway floor. Along the line of your spine and back of your head, you could feel the bruising quickly growing under your skin. The uniform tie that always hugged your neck in a neat knot was tightened beyond conceivable measure, irritating the skin of your neck. Along with the shortness of breath, you could feel the outside air run against the skin of your collarbone, buttons of your uniform torn away at the top.

The man, despite his drunken stupor, was quick to recover, snatching your free wrist from the air and dragging it against the cold stone wall. Dragging it down the rough stone to leave a stinging mark.

You kicked a leg out, desperate to get some leverage as you tried to shimmy out of the man’s hold.

He pushed closer to you, forcing your head back against the harsh stone as you tried to lean away. His breath permeated the breathable air, creating a musky fog of putrid smells that stung your nostrils. His voice was hoarse and speech was slurred as he spoke. “Awwe, what happened to all the fight in you earlier? Finally giving up?”

His head lobbed closer to your shoulder, making his ruff stubble stick harshly into your skin. You squirmed curling away from his insistent pushing. 

As another breath escaped him, you let out a strangled scream, shutting your eyes and curling in on yourself as much as possible. His breath stopped, choking on air. You shivered as his grip loosened, fingers dancing along the coat of your uniform as the limply trailed downward. All his heat fell away with a loud thump, leaving only the sound of your desperate breaths for air. 

Eyes still closed, you reached for your tie, pulling off the snake-like hold it had on your neck.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.”

Delicately touching the back of your wrists, you opened your eyes to Hajime’s arched form, hands on his knees as he breathed in deeply a large textbook dropped to his feet next to the knocked out man’s head that faced the back of the alley.

Hajime took a hesitant step closer, careful not to crowd your form against the wall as he kneeled down in front of you. He reached out slowly, aware of your narrowed, hesitant gaze as he reached for your hands looking at the scrapes that decorated your skin like refined jewellery.

You let out a non-committal laugh. “What a time to switch back right?”

He gave you a kind but worried smile in return, gradually coming back to his feet. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you laughed to yourself. “But I’ll be okay. I am going to hit my mom though. Just had to make me leave your practice early.”

Hajime shook his head, letting out a chuckle of his own. “No need for that. Come on, let’s get you home. Maybe your mom will give you the night off.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Your mother was reluctant to let you stay home, even becoming remorseful when she had to leave herself. Hajime was quick to reassure her, gilding her out the door with a confident smile and wave as you curled underneath a thick blanket of the couch. A movie played on the tv screen, creating a calm atmosphere with its familiar ambient noise.

Your eyes seemed glossed over, reflecting the light of the screen as you stared into it blankly. A gentle hum escaped you as Hajime paced over to sit by your feet, gently grabbing your ankles to let you stretch over his lap. He massaged your shin gently. “Feeling okay.”

Looking over your shoulder, you gave him a slight shrug with pinched lips, unable to get any words out comfortably. You curled further into the blanket.

He let his shoulders slump slightly, watching as you pulled the edge of the blanket closer to your face. Mental curses ran through his brain, wishing he could’ve been in your place for even a second longer to relieve you of the stress. He watched the screen but paid the story no mind as he replayed his actions over in his mind, searching for something he could’ve done better.

“Thank you, Hajime.”

Head tucked in the crook between the three walls of the couch, you stared directly at him, completely focused. That kind, thankful expression was all that he needed.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brain tired, no thoughts - Bacon


	42. Crashing Into You Pt.2 - Lev Haiba

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Body Swap 
> 
> Requested
> 
> Tags/Warnings: Dancer! Gender Neutral! Reader
> 
> Word Count: 600+
> 
> Please read the note at the bottom

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Lev could feel it, another bad day creeping around the corner. Unfortunately, he had been plagued with bad days as of late, but at least that didn’t outway his good days. 

This particular bad day started with volleyball practice, which surprised him because volleyball usually stayed as the highlight of his day, that and his daily lunches with (Y/N). 

While he was hooking the net to the pole, he stepped on a stray volleyball and fell, twisting his ankle. And just like that, he was out of volleyball practises for the rest of the week, per Kuroo’s decision. 

“It’s better to rest now,” Kuroo had said. He clapped a hand on Lev’s shoulder. “You don’t want to make it worse by pushing yourself. Tons of athletes push themselves too hard when they have an injury and it just makes it worse.” 

That led him up to here, sitting on the sidelines with his leg elevated watching the practice instead of participating. Kuroo told him that he didn’t have to stay, but Lev insisted. He didn’t want to miss anything, and even if it might not be much, he could still learn despite being on the sidelines. 

Lev rested his against the wall and closed his eyes. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

A bright light blinded Lev’s eyes. The pain in his ankle faded slowly, but it was still there. That caused him to stumble, but he got up quickly without realizing it. In fact, he was standing up and his arms were stretched out, and his feet glided across the floor in a movement he didn’t know. Another second passed when it clicked that he was in (Y/N)’s body, standing under a bright spotlight in the middle of a stage, in front of a large crowd. 

Shit. 

He let (Y/N)’s body guide his motions, hoping that the momentum of their past movements would lead into the next. He wished that (Y/N)’s muscle memory of the choreography outweighed his own brain’s actions to stop and run off stage. 

Lev pressed his eyes tightly together again, he wouldn’t mess up this performance for (Y/N). 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Lev caught himself before he tumbled down the last few steps of the stairs. He leaned on his good leg and caught his breath. 

He wasn’t in the gym anymore. He looked around. The stairway he was standing in led to the school auditorium. 

Picking himself up, Lev slowly made his way down the staircase. 

He was almost to the entrance when a crowd came through the doors of the auditorium. The performance was done. He ducked through a side door and followed the path to the back stage. He could hear the rustling behind it.

He knocked. 

Haru opened the door. They were still in their performance clothes and sweat matted their hair to their forehead. Haru glanced at him up and down and turned their head back into the room. “(Y/N)! There’s someone here to see you.” 

(Y/N) stepped through the door and closed it behind them. “This body switching thing is getting kind of annoying.” 

Lev laughed. “You’re telling me. The sheer panic that went through me when I was standing on stage.” 

(Y/N) glanced at his ankle and then their own. “Let’s sit down.” 

Lev nodded and braced himself against the wall, sliding down until he reached the floor. (Y/N) followed suit and stretched out their leg in front of them. “I didn’t know something like pain could transfer with body swapping.” 

Lev cringed. “Does your ankle hurt?” 

(Y/N) smiled. “It’s not your fault.” 

Lev took (Y/N)’s hand and held it tightly. “From what I could tell, your performance was amazing.” 

Throwing their head back with a laugh, (Y/N) said, “Thanks. You would know.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a short one because school is kicking my ass, but there will be better (longer ones) coming your way. 
> 
> So…..there is another schedule change. It might be a little difficult to grasp, Bacon and I are still working out the details, but it’s a schedule that’ll work better for me (the struggling uni student)(NOT ME, I'm a lazy 13th year! -Bacon). 
> 
> The one shots will be in like tiny bursts. We’ll take a break from posting after next week’s one-shot (for a couple of weeks) and from that we’ll mass write when we can and then we’ll announce/post for a certain amount of time after that depending on how many one-shots we produce. 
> 
> Also, that takes into account requests. Requests will stay open, but please know that with this new system your request might be delayed by a lot depending on when we post. (They are anyways). 
> 
> With the revamps, they might be posted in the schedule because editing old ones is easier than writing new ones. So, they’ll be a part of the regular posting whenever that is.
> 
> Hopefully through this it’ll help us produce better quality one-shots in the time that we write. 
> 
> Also, this may or may not be the same for the summer. That depends on whether we have to do things during that time, but it is definitely what’s going to happen during the school year. 
> 
> Thank you - Kiwi and Bacon
> 
> (PS, I’ll probably continue writing like normal, just not posting right away and working on longer multi-parted stories if I come up with any) -Bacon


	43. I'm your baby, right? - Bokuto Koutarou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Magic
> 
> Requested
> 
> Tags/Warnings: GN Reader, Witches/Wizards (and so on) are not gendered terms they are descriptors of specific magic practice, also the reader gets called ‘mama’ but it really doesn’t have anything to do with their gender.
> 
> Word Count: 5.5+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Your hands worked gently into the shoulders of the older woman as she slowly knocked back a steaming cup of tea. The dainty container was painted with intricate yellow patterns along the edge but was hidden by the woman’s swollen fingers. Similarly, her feet were lifted on a footrest as she waited for the swelling to go down.

A fluttery breath escaped her as you lifted your hands off the warm skin of her exposed shoulders. “You’re an angel, (L/N). This tea is lovely.” Taking a hand off the cup, the older woman rubbed her swollen belly with gentle strokes, shifting the silk fabric with every swipe.

“I’m not an angel, Mrs. Hooper. But thank you.” You reach for your supplies, placing the dried herbs and flower petals back into their respective jars before dropping them into your satchel.

“Oh pshh, you are nothing short of magic.”

Swinging the leather bag onto your shoulder, you smiled at the pregnant woman. “I wouldn’t be a witch without magic, now would I?” You padded your matching leather shoes toward the house’s main entrance, eager to get out of the pristine home filled with golden antiques that you could never dream of having in your little cottage. “Tell your husband to walk over with the money when he gets home, you need to stay sitting or you’ll pop!”

Mrs. Hooper let out a light laugh while waving you out from her reclined seat in the middle of the main room. The beautifully carved door closed behind you gently behind you as you walked down the concrete stairs to the main road. People rushed past you quickly, eager to get onto the train cart before it rolled it’s way to another part of town, apologizing as they knocked you into the fancy home’s metal stair rail.

Heading in the opposite direction of the pedestrian traffic, you took calm steady steps toward the town’s south edge where the houses gradually became smaller before hitting a grassy field followed by a wall of tall pine trees. The town was filled with ringing bells and stomping feet as people ran to their jobs. 

At the edge of the town’s centre, the concrete roads turned to stone paths and houses became sparse. Looking across the grassy field, past the scurrying children that dirtied their clothes with pesky grass stains and dirt, you saw your little house peeking out behind the first row of trees, surrounded by wild flora.

The kids and their parents waved to you as you walked past.

The wooden door creaked in agony as you pushed it open, croaking again as it swung shut. You kicked off your shoes, leaving them by the door as you stepped toward your kitchen table. A raspy purr emitted from the previously empty flower basket on the table, vibrating like an old man puffing out his last breath of cigar smoke. You peaked your head over the woven basket rim.

“Hi there, Mika. Are you tired?” Small coos bubbled out of your chest as you scooped the scruffy black cat into your arms. She twisted lazily, clawing at your cotton sleeves in an attempt to escape back into the basket. “No you don’t, you old geezer. It’s time for your medicine.”

The elderly familiar yowled as you cradled her in your arms, still trying to claw her way out as you reached for a needless syringe to place in the crook of her maw. “Don’t fight me now, you runt. You know I’ll win, you’re old, and a cat!”

Medicine safely down the short-haired cat’s throat, you set her free to wander around with hunched shoulders. You slumped into the chair that sat at the desk of all your jarred herbs and candles, watching the cat slowly crawl her way back to her favourite pillow and blanket. She struggled to jump up onto the couch. The sight made your stomach hurt.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

As you climbed up the ornate astronomy tower attached to a large home near the center of town, you could hear voices echo into the stairwell. You took careful steps, listening to the stairs creak and keeping your hand gripped tightly to the railing.

“Akaashi, please. You got to tell me! This is important life info I need to hear.”

You pushed the wooden door at the top of the stairs open, leading you to a large circular room with shelves lining the walls filled with books, star maps, and questionable ingredients. Colourful silk scarves hung from the ceiling along with a spherical chair that suspended itself above the opening to the balcony, on the desk in the center of the room was a large black pot with a bubbling purple liquid over a heat source.

“Mr. Hoops, though I do specialize in magic of many forms, including fortunes, predicting the colour of your child’s hair does not require magic. They will be brunette, just like you and your wife.” Next to the bubbling pot was the town’s magic masterer, holding the titles of magic expertise as a warlock, enchanter, alchemist, and wizard, giving him the responsibility to respond to most of the towns inexplicable problems and often getting involved with predicting someone’s most likely future.

Flicking his hand over the top of the pot, the fire beneath it stopped and began to settle down, turning into a deep blue colour. He brushed the side of his blue and gold robes out of his way as he came to stand beside you, nodding in thanks as he took a small pastry from your hand.

“Now, Mr. Hoops, I have to work with (L/N) here, magic stuff, so if you could be so kind to escort yourself out and give your wife some company back home?”

The balding man nodded with a huff, wobbling past you to the door as he adjusted the black vest on his shoulders. He gave you a nod of acknowledgment as he adjusted the ribbon that was pinned over the heart of his chest, reading ‘Mayor’. Brushing a few thin hairs on his head, the door shut behind him with a gentle click.

“Akaashi, I hope I wasn’t interrupting.”

“Don’t worry, little witch, that man has been coming here every day for the past week hoping I could give him a fortune about his unborn child.”

You followed the enchanter to his center table, taking a seat on the round wooden stool he magicked out from under the table for you to recline on. You watched his flicking hand with an exasperated laugh before settling onto the seat. A little pygmy owl flew onto his shoulder, ruffling its feathers when it landed.

“So, what can I help you out with?”

You played with the baggy sleeves of your shirt, following Akaashi with your eyes as he pulled an empty glass container off his shelf and scooped a large amount of the blue liquid with a metal ladle. Slowly, he poured the smooth liquid into the glass jar. You gulped, suddenly feeling the need to drink some water. “I was wondering if you had any reverse ageing potions? Or something along those lines. Mika is getting old and you know a witch is nothing without their familiars. She even had trouble getting to her bed yesterday.”

Akaashi closed the jar with a pop of its lid. “That poor thing,” he said. “I have a few things that might work. But you should talk to Bokuto about familiars, it’s his area of primary study.”

Feeling heat crawl up your neck you shook your head rapidly, to the point of making the stool wobble beneath you. Thin wooden legs slamming into the floor. “Ah, no-no. That’s alright. I wouldn’t want to interrupt his studies.”

Akaashi scoffed as he reached for one of his many leather-bound books on his shelf as well as a few odd ingredients. “That man, for a want-to-be wizard, doesn’t put much effort into his more magic-based studies. But he is good with animals.”

A small whisper of  _ ‘I know’ _ came meekly out of you, as Akaashi placed all the items on the table before you.

“This is probably all you need, read the instructions carefully. And just so you know, the potion probably won’t work for the long term.”

You nodded thankfully, standing from your seat. “While I’m here, do you want me to check on that wrist of yours?”

Akaashi gave you a small grin before waving his dominant hand in rapid flicking motions. “Thank you, but your tea and spell did just the trick.”

As you gathered your gifted supplies into your satchel Akaashi slowly made his way to the room’s exit, kindly gesturing you out. A snort escaped him as you suspiciously looked at a vial of red liquid before dropping it into the leather bag as well.

“Would you like me to escort you out, I can call Bokuto if you’d like.” A cunning grin cut into his cheek.

“No no, it’s okay. I can manage.” You walked through the doorway, looking up at the circular curve of the frame, before rushing down the steps. Akaashi’s laughter bubbled through the cold stairway.

Reaching the ground floor, where the main living space was, you sneezed as a bit of fluff tickled your nose.

“Sorry, little witch. Molly was shedding a bit more than normal.”

Even with your eyes squinted shut from your sudden sneeze, you could recognize the other person in the room. Your shoulders scrunched up to your eyes, fighting the heat that tried to crawl up your neck at the sound of the familiar loving wizard’s rough voice. An embarrassed laugh and cheeky grin nearly escaped you before you managed to school your expression into one of mild interest.

“A bit more?”

On the other side of your closed lids was a sight that desperately made you want to fall to your knees in a fit of adoring giggles.

Bokuto, from the tips of his raised hair to the bottom of leather boots, was covered in horsehair. The white stuck to him like glue, flying back as he brushed them away. He gave you a lopsided grin while picking fluff off of his shoulders. Your eyes followed the flexing of his upper torso underneath his white stable boy shirt. Across the width of his chest and along the length of his shoulder before trailing down his bicep, they grew in size as he reached for the opposite shoulder.

You gulped.

“So what’re you doing here anyway? Ooh, I like your outfit! It looks good.”

His eyes were very golden when you actually chose to look at them instead of the floor, they were sparkling. You adjusted the armholes of your ribbed vest, letting you large sleeves puff out a bit.

“Just grabbing a potion from Akaashi.”   


“Oh Really?” his neck extended as stretched up in excitement. “I’m working on my curses and potions. Can I show you when I perfect them?!”

You responded with a happy grin. “You can show me at any time.”

“Yes!” In the corner of the pair’s kitchen, a squeak was heard. Bokuto gasped suddenly before shuffling through the cupboards with wild hands, knocking spices, jars and small bags out in haste. The muscles in his back seemed to threaten to rip through the seams of his shirt. “Peanut, no! You rat, get out of there!” He spun his head around to give you a big shiny smile, hand still tucked in the shelving. A small bird flew through the kitchen window, landing on his head with a satisfied chirp. “I’ll see you (L/N)!”

You left the warlock’s and his apprentice wizard’s home grabbing the strap of your old bag. Keeping the mental picture of bird nest Bokuto fresh in your mind

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Virgin blood.” Your brow furrowed as you looked from the leather spellbook that was laid out on your wooden table to the small vial that sat delicately between your fingers. “Where does he get this stuff?”

On the same table, between your cast iron pot and a large bouquet of dying flowers, Mika lazily played with a young mouse that was none-the-wiser about the harm that could come it’s way. Her claws never stretched out to hurt the small rodent though.

“One drop of virgin blood,” you read the line aloud as you followed. “Pinch of salt. Stir for 5 and settle for 24 hours.”

You twisted your body as you read the last line on the sheet, blindly reaching out for a wooden spoon. A hum built in your throat as you finished the line and began stirring. The puke green colour quickly turned into a delectable fruity pink. The smell even shifted into something nostalgic and sweet. 

For five minutes you stood there staring into the enticing liquid.

The mouse on the table squeaked.

“(Y/N)!”

The spoon you were just pulling out of the black pot, fell back in with a small splash.

“Bo— what happened to your ears?”

The tall muscle made man stood in the centre of your doorway, shoulders slumped in as he tried to collapse in on himself and hide in his colourfully stained work clothes. An unflattering frown pulled at the corner of his lips. He looked down toward your socked feet before staring at the pot in question. His eyes met yours quickly.

“One of my curses went wrong.” One of his large ears twitched at the sound of the mouse squeaking. He looked at the small rodent with wide eyes and twitching fingers.

“You’re on your way to being a donkey.”

He whined, spiked white and black hair drooping at the ends. “Do you have a curse reverser or something? I really want my ears back to normal. Everything’s really loud.”

The tension between your brows was painful. “I have a few things. Stay here.”

As you ran toward your spell cupboard, Bokuto made his way to your kitchen counter, where your pot was left forgotten, tempting him with the smell of freshly cooked meat off of a grill. His tongue poked out, wetting the seam of his lip as he took a silent step toward the liquid-filled pot. As he reached the table’s side, Mika and her friendly mouse scattered, knocking into the vase as they jumped off. It wobbled slightly, but enticed by the pink stew in the small black pot, Bokuto didn’t notice.

He reached for the forgotten wooden spoon, scooping up the soup in the scooped head before lifting it to his mouth. The smell alone, wafting up into his nose from its position under his upper lip, made him salivate. He took an eager gulp, throwing his head back to swallow it all in one go.

“Bo?”

Dropping the wooden spoon back into the pink liquid, Bokuto looked over his shoulder to give you a wide-eyed look, lips pursed together in a surprised pout. The donkey ears on his head twitched slightly before morphing back to normal.

“Bo, did you drink my potion?” You rushed, setting down a collection of small jars on your couch’s side table. 

His golden eyes followed your hurried movements as you came to stand before him, peeking into the content of the pot before gripping his cheeks tightly in the palm of your hands. He could feel the heat build-up in his cheeks underneath your hands and his stomach stir happily. You stared straight into his eyes, desperately trying to keep your attention on the situation at hand and not drown in the golden colour of his irises.

“Did you?”

Completely distracted by having your warm breath warm over his face, Bokuto grinned between his smushed cheeks. With a delighted hum, he slumped, melting into your hands. Just as he began to lift his hands to cover yours, you were blinded away from the flustering view.

Within a fraction of a second, a puff of glittering pink smoke appeared, making you hold back a cough as you shut your eyes tightly. The smoke felt warm and soft as it flew gently across your skin. The weight in your hands increased slightly.

Sighing, you turned your head back straight, hoping to be given the sight of Bokuto gently cradling your hands against his cheek with a dopey smile and relaxed eyelids. 

“Dumbass,” you spat.

In your hands, balancing in the open space between your thumb and index fingers, was a child. A chubby child with plump round cheeks that set his lips into a permanent pout with a bit of drool dripping out and eyebrows that were absolutely too large for his face. Short two-toned hair sprouted out of his scalp like new feathers.

You let out a loud groan, bringing the naked toddler into your arms as you run to your bedroom to fish out a small blanket to snuggly wrap him in. Bokuto’s tiny hands gripped the edge of the small quilt that you messily warped around his shoulders, lifting it to his mouth to slobber against it. With gentle fingers, you pulled the cotton cloth away from his wet mouth and tucked him as close to you as possible so he couldn’t squirm.

Your socked feet padded loudly as you ran back to the kitchen. With your left hand free from carrying baby Bokuto’s weight, you dragged your finger over the worn page of akaashi’s book, searching. The toddler gargled behind you, spouting out gibberish words.

Taking your finger off the page, you carded them through his soft hair. The words that were neatly printed on the page in liquid ink gave you no answers, making thoughts run madly through your head, nearly blocking out the sound of a knock coming from your front door.

Cursing lightly under your breath, you bounced the baby in your arms and ran to the door.

“(L/N), Mr. Hooper sent me to pick up a— is that a baby?” The woman, who you recognized to be the mayor’s assistant, pointed to the young boy that giggled in your arms. “Is that a child of Bokuto? How—?”

You were quick to cut her off, flinging your left arm in the air and shaking your open farm furiously. “No-no-no. I don’t have a baby.”

“Mama.”

The professionally dressed woman gave you a confused look, almost disbelieving, as her thin eyebrow raised.

“Ignore that.” You gestured for her to enter your abode, closing the door as she stood quietly. “Inflammation and pain I presume?” You asked.

The woman nodded, following you into the kitchen where your pot still sat. Bouncing Bokuto in your arm, you opened a cupboard where all your medicinal tea mixtures and salves sat patiently.

“Is that dyed potato soup?” she asked curiously.

Spinning on your heel you reached out to hand her the medicine before gilding her shoulder towards the door.

“Nope, and you don’t want to drink it either. Mrs. Hoops knows the rules but please remind her; 3 times a day, breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

The old wooden door shut with a creek behind her.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You smacked the air blindly with a clawed hand as the extra weight of the baby wizard rested in your other arm. Bokuto giggled happily, trying to reach for the small birds that flew frantically around. You bounced, adjusting his place on your hip bone as a sparrow landed on your shoulder.

“What do you mean there’s no reverse spell?” 

Akaashi groaned, arms darting out from his side as he tried to grab hold of a tiny rat that sprinted across his kitchen counter. Sprinting around the island and head down, the Warlock fair to notice a loyal steed poke head through the kitchen window.

“Molly!” He stumbled back, letting the rat run free and becoming a tree for birds. A chickadee chirped from the top of his head as he dug his fingers into his eyelids. “There’s no reverse spell because it’s meant to permanently give you a better life, letting you be youthful while continuing to age until death.”

Bokuto’s grubby fingers played with the feathers of the sparrow on your shoulder, massaging into the pleased bird’s head. You let out a long sigh, tapping your toe into the wood floor. “So Bokuto is going to be stuck like this until he dies?”

Swatting away the birds, Akaashi made his way around the kitchen’s island table to lift himself onto in front of you. Molly, seeing a golden opportunity, stuck her head in a little further to nibble on the black hair at the back of Akaashi’s head. A tired sigh escaped him.

“Was the potion finished when he decided to drink it?”

The baby of your hip gurgled, suddenly finding the collar of your shirt to be an interesting snack. “No, I had just finished mixing it.”

Leaning back against the horse's muzzle, Akaashi let his shoulder slump in relief. “Thank the gods. This should only be temporary then, maybe last a day.”

One of your brows raised as you watched the wizard get jostled around by Molly nodded her head. Akaashi leaned forward again, grabbing the edges of his gold-trimmed robe and wrapping them around his torso a bit tighter. His eyes shut for a moment as the rat scurried into his lap and curled into a ball.

“Tired?”

“Very, I can’t handle all these familiars. That’s Bokuto’s Job. I have my own work to do but now I have to deal with his two?” He glared at the mini Bokuto on your hip, who only giggled in response and made grabby hands at his mentor. “You just had to turn into a kid didn’t you, didn't even clean up after your curses, just ran off to go see (L/N) with those ridiculous ears on your head.” He paused for a moment. “Those are gone at least.”

You chuckled lightly as Bokuto whined on your hip, clenching his tiny first around the fabric of your shirt, occasionally hitting your side in anger. “So just a day? I can handle that.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You peeked into your pot, looking at the slightly more purple liquid that waited inside of it as you cut up a few dried herbs. They split easily under your knife, crinkling loudly as you cut them down the smaller, more easily crunched.

Bokuto sat on your couch, tiny hands squeezing and playing with the paws of your old cat Mika as her tiny mouse friend curled into the fur on her back. He giggled, swaying on his bottom with his legs kicked spread out on Mika's sides.

Dropped the last few herbs into their respected jars, you wiped your hands with a beige cloth and made your way into the living room.

Bokuto immediately caught sight of you, drooping the feline's arms and raising his own towards you, hoping to be picked up. As you were about to comply, the two-toned haired baby cheered, “Mama!”

You grimaced, pausing your torso’s descent to pick him up for a moment. Eyes narrowed, you stared into his wide happy eyes and grinning mouth. “Why did you have to turn into a baby? Don’t call me ‘mama’.”

Scooping him into your arms, you brought the transformed Bokuto into your chest, rubbing his back as he gave you pleased gurgles in response. He smushed his mouth into your clothed collarbone, slobbering as he nuzzled into the spot, making his spit soak into your shirt.

“You’re lucky you're cute.”

As you were about to relax into the couch next to your beloved cat there was a knock at your door. 

You sat Bokuto back down on the couch, ignoring his hands that tucked desperately at your shirt. He pouted, whining as he hit the cushions.

“Ah, hello. What can I help you with?”

On the other side of the door’s threshold was a young boy. His hands held onto the top of his satchel and swayed from side to side, a nervous smile pulling at his cheeks.

“Hi, witch (L/N). My grandpa’s got a cold.”

You furrowed your brow momentarily, looking over your shoulder at the sound of shuffling, you faced the young boy again. “Sweats, cough, runny nose?”

“All of the above.”

Something crashed behind you. You snapped your torso around to see your once beautiful vase spread across your floor in pieces. Bokuto sat in the center of the watery mess, a large pout pulling at his chubby cheeks as he glared at you, open palms smacking into the clear liquid.

“Damn it, Bokuto.”

He smacked his hands into the floor again, nearly hitting a shard of porcelain. Giving the boy in the doorway an exasperated look. “Let me get you what you need.”

You walked by the toddler, stepping over the mess, mentality promising to deal with it as soon as you gave the boy his medicine. 

Bokuto smacked the floor again, whining.

“Bo, stop it please,” you begged, shuffling through your cabinets before pulling out a couple of jars. Carrying them in your hand to give them to the young boy that stood patiently outside.

With a loud whine, Bokuto continued to smack the wet floor repeatedly.

Handing off the jars, the boy gave you a quiet thanks and dropped a collection of coins in your palm before scurrying off toward town. Bokuto, wrapped in what now was a damp towel continued to tantrum. “Bo, please stop.”

Instead, he rolled onto his back and began to kick and punch the water. 

You waited for his cries to stop while you picked up all of the vase’s pieces, putting them on your couch's side table for later. Bokuto’s cries slowed.

“Okay. Bo—”

He wailed for a second. You got up from your knees and searched for a towel. Once one was in your hand, you started to pat your floor dry.

“Bo.”

Another cry.

“Bo.”

And again.

“Koutarou please stop.”

Bokuto’s chubby arms and legs fell limp at his side. The light of the setting sun glowed through your window, painting the last few drops he laid in with a golden glow and making the white hairs on his head appear more akin to the colour of the yellow wildflowers outside your window.

He gave you an expecting look, arms held out towards you with wide eyes and a jutted out lip. Complying, you picked the man-child up and cradled him in your arm as you wiped the last bit of water up.

“Really. ‘Kou’. That’s all it took.”

He giggled into your chest, nuzzling his nose against your sternum.

The rest of the evening was spent with a happy child burrowing his way into your stomach as you lazed back across the length of your couch, rubbing his back as Mika snoozed off on your window sill, trying to soak in the last bit of heat the sun gave off. You gently trailed your nails along the center of Bokuto’s spine before brushing your fingers through his soft, spiky hair. He shivered a bit.

Mika, now cold from the outdoor breeze, jumped onto the couch by your feet, nudging them as a sign to go to bed.

Picking your legs up, you carried Bokuto toward the blanket filled basket that Mika had made a home in only a day prior. Carefully, you lowered Bokuto’s child form into the warm cocoon, ignoring his fussy cries as you swaddled him in the sheets.

“Mama! Papa!”

“Stop that, I’m not your parent.” You stared at his pout for a moment, before letting out a frustrated groan. “Why do you have to be a cute baby too? Wasn’t having you around as an adult enough?”

Bokuto huffed, thick eyebrows pulling upwards in the center.

“I give up, time for bed.”

You set the basket down on the couch next to Mika before heading into your room empty-handed, ready to crack the window open and sleep.

It must have been around 2 am when the cries started, startling you awake. You yawned as you made your way into the main room of your house, hobbling with each step until you were looking over the armrest of your couch.

Bokuto, with his eyes shut tightly, swung his arms wildly as he scratched into the darkness of your home. You sighed, suddenly thankful for the distance between your home and the edge of town. Any neighbours would have come knocking at your door because of the noise.

Tucking your hands underneath the boy’s arms, you lifted him into your chest, bouncing him as he cried into your shoulder. His small fingers dug into your shoulder, trying his best to hold you back as snot began to stain the loose fabric of your shirt. You let out quiet shushing noises and trailed your knuckles across his back as you tiredly carried him back to your room.

Sitting down on the soft mattress, you dug your feet underneath your blankets, still warm from your forgotten body heat. A yawn tore it’s way out of you as you pulled the blankets up to your shoulder, sure to cover Bokuto’s tiny body in the process.

“All right you big baby, time to sleep.”

He was quick to get comfortable, taking slow breathes through his nose as he sucked in all the warmth you had to offer.

“Night, Kou.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Typically, the sound of birds chirping outside your window at the break of dawn was something you enjoyed. Waking up to the fluttery tunes they sang in the trees that surrounded your little cottage. Today though, today they were loud. Screeching like sharp whistles into your ear at the earliest hour of the morning.

Groaning, you pulled your hand out from the warm cave that your blankets created around you, shivering as soon as you felt the drastically colder air on the outside. You rubbed your eye and turned your head toward the window. A small flock sat along your window sill, including one that perched itself on your bedside lamp, chirping about something you didn’t understand.

You huffed through your nose, closing your eyes and tucking your hand back under the blanket as you turned back to your original position. Your cold nose hit something incredibly warm.

“Get back here or you’ll get cold little witch.”

Feeling a large hand followed by familiar well-built muscles that radiated extreme heat wrap around your back before thick, calloused fingers dug into the fleshy crook of your shoulder. Warm built up at the top of your head with every exhale he let out. Your own breath hit his chest, spreading throughout the tight space and making your cheeks feel even hotter. You scrunched your nose against the defined centerline between Bokuto’s pecks, desperately trying to avert your gaze despite the limited view.

Even with the protective layer of your loose sleep shirt, nothing was left to the imagination as he held you tightly against his best. 

You lifted your head, nose bumping against his. Within your peripherals, you could see his naturally spiky two-toned hair bend against your pillows, his cheek squish slightly as his head sunk into the fluffy object, and his thick grey eyebrows rise in surprise at your quick movement. The rising sun, though dim, made his golden eyes glow brightly in the shadowed room. Despite not being able to see it, you could tell his mouth parted as his lips brushed against yours ever so slightly before breathing out hot air like a dragon guarding a rare treasure.

You breathed slowly, eyelids fluttering. “If you want me to stay, get rid of those birds of yours. Or I will, I could use a few feathers for some spells.”

His following chuckle sent deep vibrations down your spine. You could feel his lips pull apart along your hairline, grinning widely. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Don’t make me feed you my cat’s potion again. You were much cuter as a baby.”

Another laugh made you want to sink into your mattress and hide. You dug your face into his chest, feeling his muscles flex against your skin.

“I recall you thinking I was cute already.”

“Just shut your birds up, please. I don’t need to be embarrassed anymore.”

He complied, slowly pulling away to roll off the other side of the bed and walk around to the window where the birds continued to sing happily. The blanket fell from his waist and you covered your head with the blanket.

“Put some clothes on!”

“I don’t know where you put them!”

You cried into the blankets dramatically, self-deprecating laughs escaping you as you tried to choke on the tick sheets. Following the sound of your window shutting, a weight slowly began to press you deeper into the mattress, increasing the heat all around your body by melting into the sheets. You could feel his hands rub at your back and stomach through the blanket as his knees dug into the mattress on either side of you. His voice, sharp and ruff from sleep, cut its way through your blanket before meeting your ear on the other side and you tried no to melt on the spot.

“Come on little witch, there’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m your baby, right?” 

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I may have gone just a little bit far at the ending there….. Well, uh… happy early Halloween. - Bacon


	44. Lost in- What Word? Pt 3 - Akaashi Keiji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Single(?) Parent
> 
> Requested
> 
> Tags/Warnings: Fem!reader, Time-skip Spoilers, just a short fluff
> 
> Word Count: 1k

• ──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Ah, tiny man! Hey, hey, hey, over here.”

As Naoko’s grin opened and he ran off towards the center of the large gym where a group of men stood chugging back on their water, you sent a harsh jab into Akaashi’s side with your elbow. The man grimaced slightly.

“You didn’t tell me you knew professionals! How am I supposed to one-up this for his birthday?” Naoko, busy chatting with his newfound friends, couldn’t hear you berate the man he admired.

“Tell him it’s a joint gift, he won’t think anything of it.”

“Damn you Keiji, I’m his mother!”

“And I’m his—”

“Akaashi! Set for me!”

You snapped your head over to the buff volleyball player that currently had his arms wrapped around your giggling son, swinging him in circles as his teammates gathered in a circle, wanting to be the one to give the boy more height next.

“Bokuto, let Naoko try and give you a set.”

“This shrimp?”

From the corner of your eye, you could see the red-head of the group pout up to his taller counterpart, opening his mouth to say something only to get interrupted by another member of the team.

“Already trying to replace me?” the bleached haired one said, dropping his water as he placed a hand on your son’s shoulder.

Bokuto set Naoko down as the gym doors opened behind you, revealing a few families and people as cautiously walked in.

You gave Akaashi a look, brow pushing up in surprise. “What’s this anyway?”

“Annual family gathering. The team is allowed to invite a few people to play, though it’s typically the kids and teens that participate as the parents talk.”

Following his words, as the adults greeted and thanked the individual members, the younger guests were already picking up balls and smacking them into the polished gym floor. You followed the group to the sides.

“So how did we get invited?”

Akaashi smiled. “Bokuto’s family, though very supportive, aren’t the sporty-social type. I typically get invited, so I pulled in a favour.” He waved to one of the older fathers in the group, ushering him over as his son —about the same age as Naoko— ran away to join the active group. “Ah Shugo, it’s been a while.”

“Nice to see you too, Akaashi. Who’s this?”

Before spouting out your name, Akaashi turned to you and gestured to the older man. “(Y/N) this is Shugo Yutaka, he’s the older brother of the captain, Shugo Meian. Shugo, this is (L/N)(Y/N). My—”

“Pleasure to meet you,” the older Shugo interrupted with a bow before sidestepping to give you a clear view of all the players tossing a ball around. With an open palm and a slight angle in his stance to get the right view, he pointed to the group where Bokuto, and who you knew to be Hinata, were playing with the younger kids. With an accurate line he pointed out your son in the small crowd, who was smiling at a familiar boy that stood next to him. “(L/N), does that happen to be your son?”

You nodded as the three of you took a seat at the side of the large gym. “Ah, yes, his name is Naoko.”

Between the two men, your group watched all the kids play and learn skills from the professional players. You watched as Naoko set the ball up to his new friend who hit it into the floor and gained excited cheers from the two wing-spikers.

“My boy’s name is Daido, takes after his uncle.”

Akaashi spoke up, reaching an arm across your shoulder to get in closer to the conversation. You leaned back against the heavily folding table to give him some more space. He gave you a gentle grin and took your nearest hand in his. “Does he play outside of school?”

“He did,” Shugo replied, flipping his phone in his hand. “We moved in closer to the city for my partners work, so he hasn’t been on a team for a couple weeks.”

You watched the two boys within the small group as they tried to keep the ball high in the air for an extended amount of time. “Naoko’s team will let players join practices as a tryout period. Maybe you could consider that.”

Shugo gave you a surprised, almost unsure look as his lips parted. “I’ll give him the option.”

No one stopped playing until the food arrived, hot and spread along the tables for everyone to go at like a buffet. You moved to the food table grabbing a trilogy of plates to start piling the available food onto. Hinata and Bokuto appeared on either of your sides, shuffling slabs of freshly grilled meat into their mouths with the available wood chopsticks. You chuckled as you continued to prep your plates.

“Dad! Did you get me food?” Running over hand in hand were the two boys, Naoko and Daido, panting happily as they sprinted over.

Naoko looked over to his new friend and the spiky-haired man he was being directed towards. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for your familiar face and hair among them but couldn’t catch any sight of you. Looking back to where the older Shugo stood with Akaashi, he spouted the first words that came to mind.

“Dad! Where’s Mama?!”

• ──────⋅☼⋅──────• 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot how old Naoko is supposed to be…. Oops. 
> 
> Also, as some of you might have been able to tell, we’ve changed our schedule a bit, I will continue to write my scheduled oneshots as normal and post them every other week, and Kiwi is going to write during break weeks and well post like normal afterwards, it’s a bit confusing, but it’ll make sense. 
> 
> So if Kiwi is writing your request… sorry you’ll have to wait a bit longer for now - Bacon
> 
> Sorry! I promise I’ll try to write as many as I can during my breaks - Kiwi 
> 
> Also side point, I have a BNHA story idea but no idea who to write it for...so…. - Bacon


	45. Like Glue - Tsukishima Kei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Regular
> 
> Requested
> 
> Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, No real plot just fluff, Nothing else really
> 
> Word count: 1.4K

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

_“Eh! Yuu! Who’s this lamp post?”_

Tsukishima, from the moment he heard your brash voice cut through the idle chatter of the school hallway, recognized the uncomfortable chill that ran down his forehead. With an arm wrapped around your friend’s shoulder, you cocked an eyebrow his way in an unspoken challenge. Nishinoya, quick on his feet, was quick to notice your expression turn sour at the sight of the tall blond.

 _“(Y/N)! No! This is Tsukishima. A new first-year on the team,”_ the shorter of the two athletes had said.

 _“Oh?”_ Brows hiking upward, you released your arm from around Nishinoya’s shoulder and made an exaggerated sliding step in front of Tsukishima. _“Why didn’t you say so?”_ Dominant arm pulled back, you sent a well-practiced fist into the blond’s sternum.

Tsukishima lurched, lungs collapsing under your fist as he gasped for air. He bent over, eyes shut, as a string of wheezing curses escaped him.

You laughed happily at his weakened form before bringing your arms up to wrap around his back, rubbing it gently and guiding his head to rest on your shoulder. _“Nice to meet you, Tsukki.”_

Tsukishima glared at the short boy behind you.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Noya and Tanaka leaned against each other’s backs, slowly sliding toward the floor as they whined loudly. The rest of the team looked on, not bothering to interrupt their small tantrum.

“What’s got them acting up?” Yamaguchi asked his short-brown-haired captain.

Daichi sighed, slowly taking the volleyball Yamaguchi held into his hands. “(L/N)’s working on an essay today, can’t visit practice.”

Tsukishima scoffed before watching Daichi throw the ball towards the duo's heads, which only made him snicker. “(L/N), working? You must be joking. All they do is terrorize our practices.”

Daichi let a rumbling chuckle roll through his chest as he watched the two hooligans run around like chickens with their heads cut off. “(L/N) is in class 5, and doesn’t usually need homework, which allows them to goof off. Though I’ll admit, that probably doesn’t help those two,” he said nodding to the two chaotic second years.

“How did they become friends anyway?” Tsukishima continued to inquire, following his friend and captain as they picked straw balls up.

“Well other than their matching personalities, (L/N) just has a way of sticking to people and not letting go.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Let go.”

“No way monkey bars, you’re the athlete here. You can stand to give me a piggyback ride to the gym.”

Tsukishima sucked at his teeth, letting a tisk escape him as part of his lip raised in a snarl. “Why me?”

“Well,” you began, talking loudly into his ear as you pushed your arms down into his shoulders and around his neck. “You’re the tallest person I know, for one. For two, I can bully you into it. And for three, I just so happen to get the perks of being your superior.”

“It’s hardly bullying if you tackle me, and you're not my superior in any way shape or form.”

“You’re right, you get the ‘form’ superiority hands down.” You smacked his chest. “But that doesn’t matter, you’re stuck with me.”

Tsukishima groaned, using an unbalanced kick to knock the gym door open. “When did I die and get sent to hell, and furthermore, what for?”

“Hmmm, don’t know. OH! You know what I’m gonna call you? It’s really clever, really. Tsukei, eh, eh? Get it?”

Tsukishima quickly dropped your legs, letting your back end weight fall to the gym floor as you desperately tried to cling onto his neck. “End my suffering please.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You glared at the sheet of paper that sat limply in your hands, scrutinizing every line.

“Ah, Shoyo,” you started, calling for the younger boy’s attention, to which he leaned sideways over the desk you both sat on. “The grammar of this sentence is wrong. You want to say. _Black cat_ , not _cat black_.”

“OH! Okay, What about this one?”

As the two of you spoke, the other 1st years stood patiently at the doorway to your classroom, watching as you ruffled Hinata’s hair at the success of him doing something correctly. Tsukishima scoffed as Yamaguchi patted his own hair in wonder. 

“Why are we here?” The blonde scoffed, to which the dark-haired Kageyama growled.

“Hinata wanted to check over his English homework, but Yachi is working on something and can’t help. (L/N) just so happens to have one of the top English grades in the school.”

Yamaguchi, lifting his hand off his head, placed both hands at his sides. “I think (L/N) lived abroad for a few years? Or that’s at least what I think Tanaka said.”

Tsukishima scoffed as he watched the short redhead pack up all of his things, messily packing them away as he gave you repeated thankful bows. To which you laughed and pulled the boy into a smothering hug. “That explains a lot actually.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You sat against the wall, legs splayed out on either side of the younger boy’s hips at you braided small strands of dark olive coloured hair. He wiggled nervously, shivering as he tried to use your available body heat at his back to warm himself up. 

“Yamaguchi, deep breaths. Everything will be okay,” you crooned behind him.

Noya, who was laying down on the splotchy tiled floor at your side hummed as he swung his feet back and forth. “Ya dude, that Ushiwaka guy doesn’t stand a chance against us!” Eyes closed, he swung his weight onto his shoulders, lifting his legs into the air, and used the available momentum to arch a jump back onto his feet.

“You’re gonna knock someone over if you do that,” Tsukishima scoffed from the other side of the hallway before quirking up one side of his lips. “That is if you can reach their centre of gravity.”

“Oh fight me you giant. I’ll take you down in two swings.” Nishinoya bounces on his toes as he held his fists up near his face before making a dive towards Tsukishima’s stomach. 

Tsukishima, with his quick reaction time and a lazy gaze, lifted a hand to catch Nishinoya’s head like a volleyball in the palm of his hand, forcing the shorter boy to run in space at an awkward angle.

You sighed, rubbing Yamaguchi’s shoulder as you stood up. Stepping over the nervous boy’s legs you sauntered over to the bickering pair and stood proudly, with an expecting smile, painted on your face. “Awe look at your two, come here!”

Before they could separate, you swung your arms around the available real estate of their torso’s and pulled them into a crushing hug. You gripped their uniform jackets as they tried to push away. “Stop it. It’s a bonding moment.”

“Let me go, you twerp.”

Nishinoya was quick to melt into your side, reluctantly hugging your waist as he glared up at the taller boy that stood awkwardly in your other arm.

“No way in hell. You will feel the love! Embrace it, Tsukei!”

“I don’t embrace anything.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

There were times you regretted dropping sports and others where you envied the athleticism of your friends. Never often, but the burning gasps that ripped through your chest as you ran down dizzying stairs and labyrinth-like hallways was one of those moments.

The crowd continued to chant loudly, and you could head the stomps of your school above your head, but all the sounds seem to get drowned by the hurried steps you took through the halls, the vibrations running inside your bones with each step and the loud thumps of your head throbbing.

There was talking up ahead, not that you could understand a word through your mind’s fogginess, and you turned the corner through the open door.

“Tsukei!” Pant. “Are you alright?” you sucked in a harsh gulp of hair, burning your lungs as you bend over, hands on your knees. “Your hand’s hurt, I saw blood. I came running.” You could feel Yachi’s hand rub your shoulder. You looked up from the tiled floor, staggering forward before falling onto your knees before the sitting man, arms resting on his legs as you gently took hold of his hand. “Tape? It’s not broken is it?”

“Dumbass, wipe your tears before you stain my uniform.”

You hadn’t even felt the heat on your cheeks, only now as your breaths began to shallow. You let them pour, hands gently caressing the sides of Tsukishima’s bandaged palm.

“I was so worried.”

“Idiot, it’s not your game to cry about.” Tsukishima let the sight before him solder itself into his mind as he reached his uninjured finger pad gently at the damp tears under your eyes.

“But it’s yours.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'VE BEEN PLAYING GENSHIN NON-STOP, HELP! On another note, I’m in the planning stages of the BNHA fic I want to write, and I’m also thinking about a Kenma Fic too, Soooo brain dead, no thoughts. I wish I had more time. But with that, give me some intricate quirk ideas that I can build from. - Bacon


	46. Bruised Ink - Kageyama Tobio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU: When you write on your skin it appears in the same spot on your soulmates body
> 
> Requested (though I changed it a bit to keep it as canon as possible)
> 
> Tags/Warnings: GN!Reader, Kageyama being a bit of an airhead, mild swearing
> 
> Word Count: 1.7K+

•‌──────⋅☼⋅──────•‌

Art club, morning, lunch, and after school. Though admittedly your art club supervisor / English teacher didn’t enjoy seeing an eager face so early in the morning. She, over a matter of days, had gotten used to your silent presence in the corner of the art room as she worked on papers, occasionally asking for your opinion on a topic. 

“See you after school!” you called down the hall, before waving to your aforementioned supervisor who was talking to the art teacher in the corner.

You flicked your uniform jacket off, letting it hang off the top of a chair as you ran to your canvas. The clean paint brushes waited patiently next to the progressing piece of art and your pallet rested next to them, mummified and waiting to let it’s paints feel the air again. You delicately picked at the tape wrapped around the pallet, pulling it off to reveal the chemical smell of acrylics.

You gazed at your painting for a moment, admiring the contrasting muted colours that blended nicely into the slowly fading background. Taking a brush, no larger than the width of your pinky, you reached for a vibrant green and royal blue, ready to dollop small portions onto your pallet. You huffed through your nose as a clump of blue stuck to your fingers. With no paper towel in sight, you kept your mouth shut and rubbed the paint against the back of your opposite arm. 

“You’re going to stain your skin,” your teacher huffed behind you as she walked to her desk, brushing a free hand through her bob cut. “It looks almost like a bad bruise.”

You sighed, picking up your pallet and brush, gently working the bright teal colour you mixed into the layers of your canvas. “Maybe, but if I’m lucky it’ll be gone before any of the other teachers notice just like every other time.”

She gave you a quirked brow sliding into your spinning chair that was tucked into the corner of the room. She grabbed a pen with one hand and sipped on her coffee mug with the other. “What do you mean by that?”

You laughed. “Every time I doodle, draw, paint, or just anything on my skin whatsoever, it’s gone before I see it again.” 

“So your soulmate’s washing it off before class?” she hummed, turning her eyes away from your blocked-out painting and onto the sheets before her.

“I don’t have a tattoo or a red string, so most likely, ya. They probably don’t want to get in trouble. Or maybe they’re in a swim club and don’t even notice it?”

Chuckling she looked up but kept her head down, gifting you the sight of a mischievous look. “Or they could be sweating it all off.”

“How often does a person sweat to get rid of that much ink on a daily basis?”

“There are some dedicated athletes out there.” She shrugged, rubbing the golden tattoo on the back of her hand. “Then again, all soulmate connections are a bit different.

Humming, you turned back to your painting that leaned against the wall. “What are you working on this morning, Ms. Ono?”

Behind you, a page flipped followed by a groan. “First-year English.”

“First-year? I thought you taught second-year English?”

“I did for Sugawara’s class, but I usually teach the first-year.”

You pushed your brush into the canvas a little harder. “Damn, I thought I would get to be in your class.”

“Sorry, kiddo, but you wouldn’t be in my English class anyway. But your Japanese is improving!”

You huffed through your nose. “I’d hope so, the Sugawara’s really aren’t giving me a break.” You studied your canvas and took a step back, looking at how the light bounced off the surface and made the teal look with the less saturated colours.

“Good on them.”

“Don’t encourage it!”

•‌──────⋅☼⋅──────•‌

“Kageyama, what happened to your arm?”

The boy’s grown out bowl cut swished as he flipped his arms around turning his head in search before eventually finding the offending colour that had spread into his skin. Twisting his arm, he gave the colour an indecisive look, before poking it his index finger. “Must be a bruise. Probably smacked it when we were setting up the net. Doesn’t hurt though. So hurry up, let’s get started.”

“Why does everyone have to get to school so early,” Sugawara mumbled to himself, pushing the door to the gym open as he ruffled his hair. He spoke louder, “Tanaka, can’t you stop these two?”

“Sorry, dude. But I’m having fun with this. Why are you here so early anyway?”

Sugawara sat down in the doorway, changing his shoes and rolling off his uniform pants to reveal his loose shorts for practice. “(Y/N) has been coming to school early to paint. And my parents said ‘ _ they’ll get lost, you go too _ ’ instead of ‘ _ no, sleep a little longer _ .’” 

Tanaka huffed through his nose, “Has (L/N) been settling in well?”

“Oh ya. Eichi loves the new company. But now I have to keep up with essentially two siblings instead of one  _ and _ these two idiots.” The silver-haired boy yawned as he gestured at the two first years that yelled at each other while throwing balls into the air.

Tanaka gets out a gruff chuckle before running into the centre of the gym to join the duo with endless energy.

•‌──────⋅☼⋅──────•‌

“Gone again,” you mumbled as you slowly packed up the bento box that Koushi’s mom had prepared for you.

Your arm, which had been covered in paint stains and ink marks across the whole colour spectrum, had been wiped clean. No doubt the work of your soulmate and whatever activity they partook in during their free time. 

Grumbling, you took out your white ink pen and doodled a subtle frowning face on the inner crease of your wrist.

Ms. Ono rose from her seat, patting away invisible dirt that clung to her dark pencil skirt as the warning bell sounded through the speaker system. “Alright, (L/N). I have a class to teach, out you get.” She shuffled hat stacked papers in her hand, pausing for a moment as a look of realization was thrown onto her face. “Oh and, there won’t be art club this evening, so tell the other members too.”

“What? but that’s the best part of my day!”

“Sorry, (L/N) but I can’t be in here all the time.”

You whined, following the English teacher out of the room. Mr. Sato, the art head, walked into the paint-filled classroom as you left. You both gave him a friendly nod, before continuing with your conversation. “What can I do then? I’m not allowed to go home alone.”

Ms. Ono hummed, “Why don’t you sit in on Sugawara’s volleyball practice, you can use it as a figure study and sketch in your notebook.”

“I guess that’s not a bad idea.”

“Well, there you go. Alright, get, to class or you’ll be late.” She stepped into her sunlit classroom, walking straight for her desk with clicking heels.

You left the entryway of class 1-1’s homeroom and started making your way down the hall to your own room in class 1-4. As you weaved through the crowded hall of first years you kept your head up, looking for the nearest tunnel of space, only to get locked against the wall staring into the eyes of an intense schoolmate you were unaware of.

“Uh sorry,” you mumbled, looking away from his pinched brow and sharp eyes that only held your gaze for a moment.

He raised a brow, looking down the hall behind you to his classroom. Saying nothing, he huffed and schooled his expression. Placing the opposite hand on your shoulder, he spun your body to be behind him, switching locations, and continued down the hall. You watched his flat black hair bounce as he turned into class 1-3’s room.

“Well, isn’t he sweaty,” you mumbled to yourself as you made the last few steps into your classroom.

•‌──────⋅☼⋅──────•‌

“Koushi, Koushi, Koushi. Are you sure it’s okay for me to sit in?”

“Just don’t encourage any foolishness and it should be fine. We still have to practice.”

You nodded, following your homestay as he led you to his club’s gym, rambling about his teammates.

“Ah, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi? They’re in my class. I didn’t know they played volleyball.”

“Do you talk to them?”

“No sir, I do not think Tsukishima's intimidating.”

Sugawara led you to the side where their manager stood, speaking with one of the teachers you had seen running around the school, you bowed silently as Sugawara quickly gave an introduction and ran off to change his shoes and clothes.

The group had an easy time ignoring your presence as you sat on the metal bench, flipping coloured pens between your fingers. Rough doodles filled the page as messily scribbled outlines took the form of the players you saw before you. Some were stretched out in the air while others dove to the ground in elegant swoops. 

Your pen skidded across the paper.

“Damn,” you muttered, lifting the tip and forcing it into the papers again. Nothing.

Twirling the ink-filled tool between your fingers you shifted the sketchbook off your lap and taking the pen to the surface of your skin.

The ink skidded, leaving uneven marks in an indecipherable pattern along the surface of your skin before running dry. You reached for another pen, only for the result to repeat. You grabbed another, and another. The pattern continued, pushing and pulling, dragging the fine tips as they slowly began to cover the entire surface of the back of your hand in every colour including your white ink, which luckily still worked fine and contrasted brilliantly with the muddied mess on your hand.

You huffed out a quiet cheer of success, finding that a majority of your pens worked fine, and placed the forgotten book back into your lap, coloured pages ready to be drawn over with your trusty series of pens.

“Yo, Kageyama. Is that another bruise?”

•‌──────⋅☼⋅──────•‌

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this one is vague as hell but I didn’t have to brainpower to make it any more decipherable. 
> 
> It was originally requested that the reader be Sugawara’s little sibling but he only canonically has a little brother, not everyone physically looks like Sugawara, and the adoption trope is meh to me. So I went with a foreign exchange student that is being housed by his family. (if you couldn’t tell)
> 
> This au, in particular, is very hard because we try to keep our character (being Y/N) physically ambiguous for the purpose of allowing everybody to enjoy reading it. This au very much panders to those with lighter skin, so I apologize if I didn’t make it as open as I could’ve and please let me know if there are ways I can make this sort of au better. I want everyone to enjoy reading them and not feel excluded.
> 
> That’s all, and I hope everyone is healthy and safe. - Bacon


	47. Red - Tsukishima Kei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Soulmate - Red String of Fate 
> 
> Revamp
> 
> Tags/Warning: FEM! Reader, a little angsty...so...take what you will from that, revamp (previously requested) 
> 
> Word Count: 3k+

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

_ The red string of fate connects people beyond the bonds of friendship and love. It’s destiny.  _

_ The red string of fate means having a best friend and love for life.  _

_ The red string of fate is unbreakable. _

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**_Before_ **

For as long as you could remember, happiness had filled your life.

You and Tsukishima were lucky enough to have found each other at a young age. The red string burst to life when you walked into the same classroom as him during kindergarten. The bright red light had filled the room and then shrunk until a thin line formed and tightly coiled around your left ring finger, connecting you and a blond boy with glasses. 

Everyone was shocked. Most people didn’t meet their soulmate until much later in life. 

Since then the two of you had been inseparable, best friends for life. And, hopefully, you wished, something more in the future. All the signs pointed to that. 

The sun had already set and the streets were dark. You were lying on the floor of Tsukishima’s bedroom. You glared over at his back that was hunched over his desk. Homework had piled up on him. Both volleyball and being a third-year had taken a toll. 

However, that didn’t stop you from going over to his house and eating his food. That added to the list of many things that you loved about him. Another one would be Tsukishima let you do almost anything in the world and wouldn’t care. He was always on your side of the argument and you were on his. You could kill a person and he would help you hide the body, no questions asked. 

But the one thing he didn’t stand for was the disturbance of his dinosaur collection (one that you practically put together). 

“Almost done?” you asked. 

You sat up and stretched out your arms. Standing up, you made your way towards him. You placed both of your hands on his shoulders and rested your chin on his head, closing your eyes. 

He hummed in response but his eyes never left the math problem in front of him. 

“Do you need help?” 

“No, I don’t need your help. I’m just tired,” he said lamely. 

“You say that, but the faster you get it done the sooner you get to sleep. There’s nothing wrong to want help.” 

His head whipped towards you. Dark circles hung from under his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping well and you knew it, but he waved you off when you gave him suggestions. Trying to help Tsukishima when he didn’t want it was like convincing a lizard that it’s a rock, pointless. But you always tried.

“Go away.” 

You laughed nervously, but backed away from him, giving him space. You walked over to your bag and went through it. Your school bag has always been a mess. Maybe sorting it now would keep your mind busy while you waited for Tsukishima to finish. “I think I left my pencil at school.” 

Tsukishima spun around on his chair and glared at you. He never looked at you like that before. The glare that he reserved for strangers that wanted something from him. 

“Go find it then. I didn’t ask you to be here.” 

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Words that usually came so easily to you, died in your throat. You quickly packed up your stuff and threw your bag over your shoulder. “Fine.”

You turned to leave and saw the regret slowly grow on his face. 

Tsukishima sighed and stood up. “Wait. (Y/N)—”

You closed the door behind you. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“Damn it!” Tsukishima shouted. He could hear the sound of the door closing echo in his brain. 

He choked back a cough. Something felt wrong. 

Anger flooded through him. _Why was he feeling his way?_ _What was happening?_ He ran his fingers through his hair and clenched tightly onto the strands, pulling at it slightly. The two of you had fought before and this one wasn’t even the worst. But it didn’t feel right this time. 

The dinosaurs that (Y/N) had gotten him mocked him. They looked at him with fake eyes and plastered smiles.

He opened his closet door, stormed to his bed, and grabbed the first stuffed dinosaur he could find. (Y/N) had given them to him as a joke for his fifteenth birthday, but he really looked forward to each new one. 

But now? 

He was satisfied with the  _ thump _ sound he heard when he threw it into his closet. It felt almost therapeutic when he slammed the closet door shut and locked it. 

Tsukishima’s breath was heavy. All the satisfaction suddenly left him like ice melting in the sun.

Sleep did not reach him that night. He just stared at the plain white sheets that covered his bed wishing that someone was still with him. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Sleep didn’t find you either. He’d never spoken to you like that and whenever you closed your eyes all you could see was the look on Tsukishima’s face and the sound of spite in his voice. You felt a strong tug in your stomach when you thought about it. 

But when your heavy eyelids did shut, you dreamt of nothing. 

When you woke up, something felt off. 

The morning light hit your eyes the same way, but the world seemed different. You raised your hand to your face to see the string, a habit you couldn’t shake, not even in anger. As always, the red string was there, tied to your finger, trailing off a meter in front of you and faded out. You never knew how far it could stretch, but you always knew that Tsukishima was on the other end. 

You sat up quickly when a shock crawled up your arm. 

The once vibrant red of the string was gone and replaced with a dull one.

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

The next day at school was worse. The light and happy atmosphere around the two of you changed. It seemed as if the entire school noticed. You could hear the whispered conversations and hushed tones when you walked into school alone and even more when Tsukishima switched desks with Yamaguchi for the day to avoid you. 

That one hurt the most. 

Every spare moment you got, you worked up every last bit of courage you could find within yourself and tried to talk to him. It was only a fight. Everybody fought. You weren’t going to let it get in the way. You and Tsukishima were soulmates. You were  _ forever _ . Though, it seemed as if Tsukishima had worked up every last bit of himself into avoiding you. If he saw you coming, he’d turn in the opposite direction. 

The pit in your stomach only grew throughout the day. You’ve never gone a day without speaking to him. Up until now, you haven’t noticed how much of your life included him, especially at school. You never made many friends inside of school because all you ever knew was life with Tsukishima by your side. 

The last time you tried that day was during lunch. You walked up to the usual spot, under the trees in the field, but Tsukishima wasn’t alone. It looked like he invited the entire volleyball team to sit with him. He sat beside Yamaguchi who said something to make him smile. 

You looked down at your hand and flexed your fingers. You were close enough to each other that you could see the end of the string and where it looped around Tsukishima’s finger instead of fading because of distance. But you never felt further away from him. Maybe if you tugged on it he would notice you. 

Trembling, your hand dropped to your side and you walked away. 

For the first time, in a long time, you ate lunch alone. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**_After_ **

You paced on the pouch of Tsukishima’s house. 

The silent treatment and avoidance had lasted the entire week and you were sick of it. 

This was total bullshit. 

Every day you tried to talk to him and every day you got nothing in return. 

Your hand hovered in front of the door, ready to knock some sense into him. Then the little whispers in your brain told you to  _ give it a little time _ and your hand fell. You frowned and raised your hand again. He had enough time to act like a child. 

The door opened before you had a chance to knock. Tsukishima towered over you and didn’t meet your eyes. His clothes were a little dishevelled and his hair stuck out at odd ends. At least you weren’t the only one having a hard time. 

“Did you need something?” he asked. Tsukishima sounded tired.  _ Was he still not sleeping well?  _

“How did you know I was out here?” you said. 

He tsked and looked down, taking a sudden interest in his slippers. “I had a feeling.”

You bit your lip and looked up to the porch light, trying to will your tears to not fall.  _ Great, _ you thought,  _ barely a word out and I already feel like shit.  _ “Wow. You can’t even look at me?” 

“Did you need something, (Y/N)?” he repeated. 

“Why are you avoiding me?” you snapped. 

“I’m not avoiding you.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Well, we both know that’s a lie. Does lying come easily to you now, too? Does it join the categories of avoidance and jackassery? It definitely doesn’t fall in the same place as being a good soulmate—or even a good friend.” 

He flinched. And you felt yourself flinching too. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he whispered. 

“I don’t care  _ what  _ you say!” It was louder than what you meant it to be, but you didn’t have it in you to stop. “At least talk to me, say something, anything. Did something happen? Did you do something? Did I do something? Give me a reason. Something. We are fated to be together. You’re going to have to talk to me eventually.” 

“Do—” he started, and then bit his tongue back as if he didn’t want to say it. “Don’t you ever feel like this was forced?” 

You took a step back. “What?” 

He let out a breath and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot since our fight. We only became friends because of this” — he held up his hand and tugged at the string— “doesn’t it seem forced to you? Like someone took your choice away? One you didn’t even know you had?” 

_ Took something away?  _ You choked back a cry. This string had only given things to you. 

“Are you saying that you don't want me as your soulmate? That I’m something that you're  _ stuck  _ with?” 

He didn’t answer. 

“What’s happening?” you sputtered, running your hands up to your hair. “I don’t understand. This is the way the universe works. This is how things are meant to be.” 

He paused and raised his head. He stared at you steadily, nothing in his eyes. “Sometimes even fate and destiny isn’t meant to be (Y/N).” 

You stared at him. How could he be so indifferent about this? There were stories about people begging and crying about never finding their soulmate. How could he throw it away? 

Turning your back, you carried yourself high as you walked away. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your friendship. He didn’t deserve to see your tears fall. 

As you turned a corner, you felt a strong snap and bent over as pain shattered through your body. 

Your hand burned. 

The string around your finger, the one that shaped your entire life, turned white as the red light slowly died. The world turned and your vision blurred. You barely saw it as the string fell away from your finger like it was never there.

Gone forever. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

_ The red string of fate broke, and nobody wants things that are broken.  _

_ However, fate finds its way, even in places where it’s not wanted.  _

_ Red is love. Red is anger. Red is to never be seen again.  _

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**_Then_ **

An empty ache ran through you. 

Nothing was tying you to the world anymore. It felt like a punch to the stomach that would last forever and only get worse. You stood in shock, your eyes wide open. Tsukishima appeared from around the corner, stilling once he saw you. He stared at you with the same look; he felt it too. You quickly looked down at your left hand, and for the first time, you saw nothing. 

The red loop around your finger was gone. 

You looked back at Tsukishima in horror. Your mouth opened and closed not knowing what to say. You could feel yourself trembling. 

“(Y/N),” Tsukishima said softly. 

You didn’t respond. Shaking your head, you slowly backed away from him. “How could you?” 

He closed his eyes. He hated seeing you cry but never has he seen you cry because of him. He told you that he felt like crying whenever he saw you crying. Was that a part of being a soulmate? Would he still feel the same way now? 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Tsukishima couldn’t answer any of her questions. How could he explain what he felt when he didn’t even know it himself? 

Sometimes things just fall apart without any rhythm or reason. 

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand.” Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. It was the first time he heard her so hollow. (Y/N)’s watery eyes met his.  _ Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.  _ “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“(Y/N)—” 

“It’s not supposed to break,” she whispered. (Y/N)’s voice became distant and far away, she was talking to herself. Her fingers traced the base of the finger that once held the string as if her mind and body had to convince itself that the string wasn’t there anymore. He felt himself do the same. The air he breathed was cold and dry as if it would never be spring again, stuck in an eternal winter. “No one ever said anything about it breaking, or that it  _ could  _ break. It’s supposed to last forever.”  __

“I didn’t mean too—” 

(Y/N)’s eyes turned hard. “Are you happy now?” 

_ Happy? How could he be happy? _

“I mean, you must hate me so much for this to happen,” she continued.

“Stop,” he said. Tsukishima reached out for her. He could barely feel her skin touch his fingers before she pulled away, flinching back as if his touch was acid.

(Y/N) bit her lip. “Stay away from me.” 

Tsukishima couldn’t move. He watched as (Y/N) ran across the street in the direction of her house. Once she faded from view, he numbly found his way back to his house and sat on the steps leading up to the porch. He moved to rub his eyes, and his hand came back wet. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

All you wanted to do was go home. You counted down the minutes to the final bell. You hated the way people looked at you—and at Tsukishima. Even though you didn’t tell anyone what happened, and you were sure he didn’t either, everyone seemed to know.

You kept your head down as you walked home. 

You noticed it this morning. Your mom had bought you some roses earlier that week and they were colourless— a monotone grey. At first, you thought that it must have been a trick of the light or morning dizziness, but the colour never came back. 

On your way to school, stop signs were monotone, the red light in the street light didn’t turn, things you didn’t even notice, flowers, cars, every colour was different. 

Red was gone from your sight. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

The bus couldn’t come faster. School wasn’t doing you any good, so you ditched last period and decided to take the long way home by walking. But soon your legs grew tired and stopped at the next bus stop you saw. You only knew the times of the buses after school, so you were standing at the bus stop for a while now. 

You turned your head quickly as you noticed Tsukishima coming down the street with the bus nowhere in sight. You straightened your back and kept your head forward pretending that you didn’t see him. You were at a concert, the beach, or in outer space — anywhere but here. 

Someone tapped your shoulder. 

You closed your eyes and waited for the sound of the bus. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You said nothing. 

“(Y/N)...Please. I want to talk to you.” 

You gritted your teeth. “If I tell you to go away, will you?” 

Tsukishima sighed and pressed your shoulder lightly, which made you turn to face him. There was redness around his eye. “If you talk to me, then, yes, I will.” 

You finally met his eyes and gave him a blank face. Lately, that’s all you could muster when you faced anyone. You were too tired to be sad and nothing made you happy enough to smile. You raised your eyebrows in expectation, not trusting your voice to ask him what he wanted. 

He was silent for a minute, like the courageous Tsukishima took a wrong turn on his way to talk to you. 

“Are you...Are you okay?”

Your hand curled into a fist. 

“Am I okay.” You frowned. “You don’t get it, do you?” 

Tsukishima frowned. 

Your throat tightened and eyes watered. But you refused to cry. “It was not just your life, Tsukishima. It was mine too. I can’t stand here and listen to whatever you want to say because — it’s you and I know that whatever you say will make me forgive you. And I think I deserve better than that.” 

You heard the bus pull up and took the bus pass out of your pocket. You stepped onto the bus and turned back one last time. Tsukishima stood in front of you, his mouth opened slightly as if he wanted to say something. 

“You already made your decision the moment you made mine,” you said, “so you either live with it, or don’t. And if you don't know, then talk to someone who cares, but that person isn't me, not anymore.”

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**_Now_ **

The sparks of happiness never last long. Nothing could fully fulfill the void of not having a soulmate. Everything seemed a bit darker without red and you grew a resentment to red roses. 

But, the sparks of happiness did last longer the moment your daughter was born and every moment after that. 

You were lucky. You found someone who made you smile, though they did to lose their soulmate to illness. You didn’t tell them what happened to you for a long while after you met, and when you did, you did it over the course of a week, giving them tiny pieces here and there. 

Sometimes you thought it would be easier to say your soulmate died too because in a way he did. But you never felt comfortable to say it. It felt wrong. 

Today was your daughter's first day of school and it was already not going well. 

Your daughter clung to your leg as you tried to walk away. “I don’t want to go! I want to go home!” 

You sighed and gave her a hug. She held onto you tighter. “Hey, you’re going to have an amazing time. I met some of the best people here. You’re going to make great friends and meet fantastic teachers. Do you really want to miss out on all of those things?” 

Your daughter nodded. “Yes, let’s go home.” 

You closed your eyes and looked past her shoulder. A tall boy with blond hair sat on the carpet waiting for the other students to arrive. A dark pair of glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. 

He looked like someone you used to know. 

“Why don’t you talk to that boy over there?” 

Your daughter looked over her shoulder and saw the boy. She walked over to the boy and began to talk to him. He looked up and smiled.

A red burst of light shined through the room. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Hello everyone. I am not dead and still (kind of) writing. University is HARD and has so much work accompanying it. I’ve been editing this for like 2? 3? Months since school started, doing tiny pieces here and there when I just wanted to write to de-stress but didn’t want to come up with anything new :)
> 
> This is a revamp of a oneshot that I wrote in our first book and it follows the same storyline , but I basically rewrote it into the way I write now and added stuff. There might be some new stuff too. Oh! And there may or may not be a part two for this...cause originally there were 4 fours and these are the first two. The third one was written out of request and the fourth part Bacon wrote. If any of you want it, it could be something I edit/rewrite later, but those parts weren’t originally a part of the idea. 
> 
> Sorry to anyone who requested one-shots that I’m writing and have not gone out yet...or have been written. Hopefully during the break I’ll get a lot of them done and they could be posted during our usual every other week or just when they're done. 
> 
> Thank you for reading - Kiwi


	48. Of Longing and Linger - Tsukishima Kei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Songfic/ Regular / Unrequited love 
> 
> Revamp
> 
> Gender Neutral Reader 
> 
> Word Count: 1.6K +

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

 _You could want this_ _  
_ _See if it fits for a bit_ _  
__And if you don't like it_ _  
__Then you can go like you have been_ _  
__And I'll never tell, never tell how I fell for it_

_I never feel before_

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You watched as Tsukishima Kei got another confession from another person. 

_Freaking fantastic._

You weren’t surprised though, he got confessions every day like clockwork. He was an asshole that way, accepting confession after confession and then rejecting them again within a number of days when he decided he was done. 

Your undying crush on him made it worse. Even if you had the courage to confess to him, you knew that you’d just be washed in with the rest of the cycle, you'd be dated and then forgotten. 

Actually, what made it worse was the fact that he was one of your best friends before your crush set in. You knew what he was like before and that alone should’ve changed your heart about him, but it didn’t.

Your mind flicked back to the moment in front of you as you watched the girl break into a huge grin, and ran away with a blushing red face. Tsukishima rubbed his head as he walked back to you and Yamaguchi and sat down with a sigh. 

“Another confession Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked. 

“Yup, maybe she’ll be better than the last one,” Tsukishima said with a shrug. 

The bell rang and you shot up from your seat. Quickly, you packed up your lunch container, ignoring Yamaguchi’s calls, and sped to class. You rounded the corner and stopped, leaning against the brick walls of the school. 

You expected this. You knew it was going to happen again, so why did it hurt so much? 

Rethinking back to the day you met him and retracing everything from that moment on, you could never pinpoint the time you fell for him. It must have been little fragments over time, but you never liked anyone before you met him. Incidentally, you didn’t tell anyone you did because you were afraid of confiding in anyone that you fell for a heartbreaker. 

It even plagued you in your nightmares—or at least they felt like nightmares. You’d wake up from dreams of you finally confessing to him, only for Tsukishima to never say yes, but not quite no and then leave you standing there. His words would mash together and would be chosen so carefully that you weren’t sure what actually happened. 

However, one thing that you knew for certain was that you’d never let that be a reality. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“Hey, Yamaguchi, have you seen Tsukki?” you asked.

Yamaguchi nodded. “He said that he’ll meet me at volleyball practice. He said that he needed to do something.” 

“Really? That soon?” you questioned. 

He gave you a small smile and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, (Y/N).” 

Yamaguchi squeezed your arm gently and left. 

You spent the next few minutes walking around the school building trying to find him and came up short. But you took the girl running past you with tears streaming down their face as the first sign that you were going in the right direction. You turned the corner and, to no surprise, found Tsukishima standing there. He ran his hands through the short blond hair and shook his head. 

“Another one?” you asked walking up to him, trying to hide your frown. 

“Yeah, she was too clingy. She wanted me to meet her parents and we haven’t even had an actual conversation yet,” he said, picking up his gym bag. 

Tsukishima turned his head to smile at you. He placed a hand on your head and ruffled through your hair. “Why can’t they be more like you?” 

He gave you a slight wave of his hand and then disappeared between the gymnasium doors. You stared at the closed metal door and shook your head. “I’m right here.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

 _3, 2, 1, you get right up and I'm the one done_ _  
_ _You never say yes, not quite no_ _  
_ _Say just enough to make me not go_ _  
_ _You choose your words,_ _  
_ _Careful voice, in the end I'm not the first choice_ _  
_ _You say you want someone just like me_ _  
_

 _So then why am I your plan,_ _  
_ _Why am I your plan,_ _  
_ _Why am I your plan B?_

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“Morning,” Tsukishima grumbled, as he sat beside you during the first period. 

“Morning. Did you get another confession today?” You joked. 

You said it jokingly, but inside you were really hoping that the answer was no. 

_Please say no._

He chuckled, “Who knows? Maybe it’s you who's next.”

You looked down trying to hide your blush.

Maybe you could wait a little longer... 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

 _You know, you know you love the way I linger and,_ _  
_ _You keep me wrapped right round your finger,_ _  
_ _But you say, you say, just wait a little longer, and_ _  
_ _And in time, I could be the right one_ _  
_ _Please, I'm the B team_

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

It turns out that being told “maybe you're the next one” wasn’t the best thing to be told when you're on a string like Pinocchio. He dated a few people ever since that day and you watched on the sidelines as he went through relationship after relationship. 

“You know,” Tsukishima said, sitting down next to you. “Dating people is really hard. Why can’t it be easy?” 

You raised your eyebrows. Oh, the words you could say, but you settle for a shrug. “Maybe it’s supposed to be hard? Nothing good in life comes easily.” 

“But it shouldn't be this hard, you know?” He asked. “I just want to date someone. Is that so hard for the world to understand?” 

He glanced at you and patted your hand. “I’m happy that I have you though.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

 _This could hurt some,_ _  
_ _But if we don't never know what it's worth to ya_ _  
_ _I saw you first,_ _  
_ _Do ya remember?_ _  
_ _You played it well, victim sell,_ _  
_ _How I fell for it, I never fell before_

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“You’re what??” someone screamed. 

You stopped in your tracks and peered around the brick corner. You saw Tsukishima with his most current boyfriend yelling at him. He stood over him, looking at him blankly like he had all the time in the world. 

“I’m breaking up with you,” Tsukishima sighed. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. He took a step away from Tsukishima. 

“You didn’t,” Tsukishima said, shaking his head. “I just don’t feel it between us.” 

He scoffed. “Then why did you accept my confession?” 

Tsukishima went still for a moment. You guessed that he never had someone question him like that. 

Tsukishima shrugged. 

The boy shook his head. “You’re an asshole.” 

You saw Tsukishima say something to himself, but you were too far to hear him.

“You know,” you said, once you were in his hearing range. He turned to face you, but he didn’t have his usual indifference when he broke up with someone. “If you keep breaking up with them within the span of a week you’re never going to find someone.”

“Who asked you?” Tsukishima spat. “Are you stalking me or something? You're here every single time I break up with someone! It has nothing to do with you.” 

“if you wouldn’t break up with so many people, then maybe I wouldn’t keep running into you!” you shouted back. You stepped away from him too. “You are an asshole.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

 _You like to make me beg, yes you like it_ _  
_ _You like to make me beg, you do_

_Say just enough to make me not go_

_oh_

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Yamaguchi pushed Tsukishima towards you and ran away. 

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want?” 

You had been actively avoiding Tsukishima since your fight. But, in your defence, he has been avoiding you too. 

“Will you go out with me?” 

You choked on your water. “Excuse me.” 

Tsukishima took a step closer to you. You stilled. This is what you dreamt about. This is what you waited for. “Will you go out with me?” 

You closed your eyes. You let out a breath and took a step back. “No.” 

He flinched. “Why?” 

“Tsukishima, I’ve been your best friend for a while now,” you sighed, “I’ve seen literally what you do. You date people and then dump them like it’s nothing. Do you even like me as more than a friend? And are we going to forget that we yelled at each other not even a week ago? You’re ridiculous if you think I could just forget that.” 

“I don’t mean to do that,” he said. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry about our fight. It was wrong of me to yell at you. Forgive me?” 

Your jaw tightened and you had to bite back the surprise you had. You never heard him apologize to anyone before…

“You’re forgiven.” 

He smiled. “Thank you.” He took another breath. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re right, I do that, but I wouldn’t for you. Trust me on that.” 

You met his eyes. His brown eyes shone with a new hope. A hope for you. 

“One chance,” he said. “That’s all I ask for.” 

“One chance.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

 _You know you, you love the way I linger and,_ _  
_ _You keep my wrapped right round your finger_   
_But you say, you say, just wait a little longer, and_ _  
_ And in time I could be the right one

_Please I'm the B Team_

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW.... you guys get two one shows from me in one dayyyyyy it's a miracle
> 
> Promise there are going to be new ones that were requested coming soon - KIWI


	49. Wood of Nine - Suna Rintarou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Mythical Hybrid (?)
> 
> Requested
> 
> Tags/Warnings: GN!Reader, uhhhhh nothing else?
> 
> Word Count: 2.4K

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The men scattered, running in different directions, slight screams escaping their mouths as they sprinted away. One tripped over a root, abandoned by his friends and scrambled to his feet to follow their retreating steps.

Tall trees surround every visible stretch of land, reaching so high that it turned the sky green. The forest floor was uneven, rock and moss-covered with no discernable beaten path.

You sighed, watching the last man flee with a horrified scream of "nine" echoing behind him.

With a pinched brow, your eyes followed him through the dense trees until you couldn’t see him any longer before looking at your claws hands, nails sharp and ready for action after an unknown amount of time spent waiting.

"Nine?" You muttered, feeling your single white tail whip behind you in a swaying motion.

You had opened your eyes that morning to light chirps and rustling leaves, a welcoming atmosphere to most had you not realized that you were sitting in a dark wooden crate in the middle of nowhere. It was a quick, unwelcome conclusion that you had come to.

They shipped you off.

After years of worship and praise, people on their knees in your presence, feeding you, caring for you as they wished for good luck and fortune. Years of care for your small group of people, and they shipped you off in your sleep.

You looked up from your hands and picked your claws at the bark of a tree, wincing at the feeling of the hardwood lifting the sharpened nail from your skin. A huff pushed its way out of your chest and you bent your knees to sit back down onto the collapsed wooden crate that you were provided. You delicately patted the lightweight clothes that you had been dressed in, picking at loose threads and groaning at the poor quality.

As the sky turned dark and the air became cold, you continued to sit, back straight and chin held up as you watched the once dull now bioluminescent plants and creatures appear around you. The sight, though new and fascinating to your sheltered eyes, didn't keep you from leaving the wooden floor you sat on.

The fluffy, well-groomed ears that sat atop your head twitched with every crack and scuff you heard in the trees. You trail unconsciously moved to wrap around your side and onto your lap, where you twisted the fire between the pads of your fingers.

A sudden growl from behind you sent shivers up your spine, joining the cold air in challenging your will. Every muscle in your body tightened, making you vibrate slightly as you shut your eyes. You gripped the ends of your tail tightly as you sat still, breaths slowly accelerating. You flinched slightly as a wet, rough textured pad hitting the back of your neck, puffing out warm air before creating audible sniffs.

You listened as the creature slowly made its way around you, clawed paws clicking against the hardwood that you sat on. When you heard it’s fur fit the wooden plate, you squinted an eye open, catching sight of its proud figure sitting before you.

“Beast. What do you want?”

Wide back eyes stared directly into you, much more still than you could force yourself to be in that moment. The unfamiliar creature let out a gentle chuff and bob it’s head in your direction. 

“I apologize, but I don’t understand.” You watched the creature’s orange fur ruffled with the light breeze and it closed its eyes for a moment before staring back at you. Your tail twitched. “Well, may I ask for your purpose here?”

You waited for it to speak, give you well wishes and kind recognitions, maybe lick at your claws. It sat for a moment, before getting on all fours and walking behind you. You closed your eyes at the action, sighing, and remaining still in your makeshift seat.

You heard a growl, quickly followed by a choking hold pulling at the back of your ratty tunic. You sputtered, gasping in a gulp of air, and rose to your feet to see the black-tipped eared creature staring back at you.

“Ah, I see. You didn’t need to pull on me like a kit.”

The creature chuffed again, scoffing as it began to walk off it’s black dipped paws into the forest. You bit your tongue and scrunched your nose as you followed it deeper into the glowing woods. 

Moss squished underneath your toes and the hard texture of fallen branches and pebbles dug into the soft pads of your feet. The creature was more elegant, prancing over each piece element a few steps ahead of you as you slowly stumbled behind. You tripped, wincing as you massaged your overworked food, only to look up and find the creature burrowing itself into a small cave opening. 

You shivered as a warm breeze grazed over your shoulder. “Hey, don’t leave me behind.”

“Don’t mind her, little lagopus. She has to care for her young.” The warm air on your neck moved quicker. 

Shoulder’s hiking up, you stepped forward and spun around on a piece of soft moss. The man rose from his slight hunch, angling his head down to show you the sharp features of his face in the dim plant-light. He wore a dead expression, brow relaxed and eyelids drooped. His mouth created a shallow triangle whose points traced an invisible line to the sharp angles of his jaw. On the line of his cheekbones leading to the tip of his nose was discolouration, creating a slightly darker shade on the upper half of his face like a mask, which easily blended into his hair that swooped up into gentle points on the sides of his head that nearly made his straight furred ears blend in.

His arms around his torso to his back, where he easily lead your attention off of the draping curves of his beautifully stitched robe to the long collection of grey tails with white tips and hints of orange.

You could feel the strain in your forehead as your eyebrows tried to meet your hairline. “Nine,” you whispered, echoing the screams you heard.

His brow twitched upward and his head tilted, tails flicking curiously “You’ve heard of me? That’s surprising considering your sheltered upbringing.”

“Only in passing, only today. Upbringing?”

“Protected by the company of those filthy humans of course.”

He dropped his hands to his side before raising them up, placing one long-fingered hand onto your shoulder and the other gesturing to a small, human-shaped opening in the side of a grotesquely large tree.

“I wouldn’t say filthy, I was worshipped. Why is that tree so wide? And tall?”

“It’s in the centre of the forest. I requested for you to be sent directly here, but those humans were too fearful I’m afraid. Come in, I’ll make tea.” He gestured you through the wooden door, closing it behind him as he entered. “And as for being worshipped, they thought you a pompous feline.”

The inside of the tree was hollowed out, the same glowing plants from outside decorated the ceiling to light up the open space. You noticed a carved out staircase across from the entrance, at the back, between the kitchen and what appeared to be a mixture of a workshop, study and lounge with a variety of trinkets scattered around. 

The nine-tailed man nodded to a seat for you to occupy as he fiddled with some flint in his hands.

“Feline? You say that as if they made an incorrect assessment.”

“I am,” he said, spinning on the heel of his calloused foot, two cups of tea in hand. “But feel free to try and prove me wrong. Though I’m sure their readiness to throw you out was proof enough.” A small fang peeked out from under his top lip at the slightest twitch of visible emotion. 

“Alright. I’m no cat. Then what am I?”

“Vulpes of course, lagopus no less.”

You took the mug from his hand, claw gently dragging against the back of it. He reciprocated by teasingly flicking the rim with his own. It was warm, much warmer than the cold outside air. You felt yourself warming up as you took a sip. “Enlighten me. What is that and how did they figure it out?”

“A white fox. How they figured it out though, I’m not sure. I was told by an excited pair of travellers that the nearby village was planning to eliminate their deity. Couldn’t let that happen, now could I?” He sipped on his tea, leaning his elbows on the table as he sat across from you.

You set your mug down, a rod shooting through to your spine as you looked into his golden eyes. “Eliminate? That’s typically a kind way to say execute, murder.”

“That it is. I chose not to risk it and asked those kind travellers to use their crows to deliver a letter for me. It was kind of them to offer their service.” He took a deep breath in. “Not that they had a choice, they are walking through my forest after all.”

You studied his calculated movements, sipping on your tea. “May I ask your name, forest owner?”

He huffed through his nose in a silent chuckle. “Rintarou, last of Suna. And yours?”

“(Y/N), only. No surname was given to me. But Suna? No wonder you’re in charge of the forest, your whole lineage is made up of protectors, the reliable.”

Suna hummed, “And how are you aware of that information when you seem so oblivious to everything else.”

“I read it in a book once. Well, a small girl read it to me.”

“To you.”

“You should know that cats are seen as cunning and wise to humans. They never let me read, or even learn how to. They thought I knew everything there was to know. I suppose that led them to find out that I was not a feline, like we all believed I was,” you yawned, setting the nearly empty cup on the table. “What we all thought I was.”

Suna peered out one of his hollow windows to the darkness outside his home. “It’s rather late. I have a second cot for you to use. Let’s head upstairs.” He watched as you took a final gulp of tea before setting both mugs to the side of his kitchen counter.

The solid steps didn’t creak as he led you up them, before walking into the similarly sized room and giving you the chance to observe it all. The cots, that he has quickly gone to tidying, were pushed against one wall, pillows next to each other as the foot of them pointed in opposite directions. On the opposite end of the room, similar to the one below, was what seemed to be a round space, tall shelves lining the walls with well-handled books filling each open space.

You walked over, eyes skimming over the letters on the spines as you tried to make out their titles.

“I can teach you. To read that is. A lot of those books are informative, but quite a few are of fictional variety if you so please in the future.”

You looked over your shoulder, seeing Suna look up at you in question as he sat down on what you assumed to be his cot. Giving one last glance to the books, you walked to the empty cot, pulling the blanket over your legs and setting your head on the fluffed pillow. Suna leaned, resting a hand above your pillow, on the floor, to carry his weight. You looked up at his glowing eyes.

“Would you be so kind to do that?”

“Of course. Now rest, it’s been a stressful day.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

With the rising sun came howls of anger and metal pots smashing together. You sat up from your cot, twisting around to see Suna’s empty bed left with an unkept blanket crumpled to the side. You yawned, tail flicking as you stretched before your twitching ears picked up on the ruckus outside. You crawled to the window, squinting as the sunlight tried to burn into your eyes.

“Bring the fowl beast out!” the crowd jeered. 

You caught a glance and Suna’s slouched figure standing a few metres before the door, hands raised in a sort of mock surrender. As your eyes began to adjust and the blood began running through your ears in waves you started to put together the familiar faces in the crowd. You strangled a gasp before ducking beneath the window sill.

“Now, now. No reason to start a riot. That beast you speak of is no longer here, it was a very big meal I must say, but if you start acting up I might be so inclined to make room in my stomach for more.”

The crowd seemed to choke.

“So, if that sways you, would you be so kind to remove that blade away from my neck? It’s rusty and clashes with my fur.”

You sit silently, legs pulled as close to your chest as you were able, with your clawed hands over your mouth.

A man’s voice cracked through the silence, “Meal? You expect us to believe you ate your own kind? Preposterous!”

The lilt that poured from Suna’s voice made the smirk he wore paint the air. “What’s preposterous is that you wouldn’t believe a beast to do such a thing.” There was silence. “I suggest you run now. This is my forest after all.”

As soon as his voice stopped, a chorus of growls began to erupt from the hidden corners of the forest. You rolled onto your knees to take a look, just in time to catch the horrified faces your old people wore before they ran away, screams of ‘nine’ following them.

Suna was quick to enter his home again, greeted with an amused chuckle coming down the stairs.

“Hmm human flesh, how delectable,” you crooned before falling into another laugh, tail swishing and ears pinned back.

“Be careful there Lagopus, I still haven’t had much in terms of lunch.” He paced towards his kitchen. “Care to join me?”

You sat on the same wooden chair from the night before. “So long as I am not on the plate, yes.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ….At some point while writing this, Suna reminded me of Shrek…. I’m sorry - Bacon


	50. Do You Feel What I Do? - Oikawa Tooru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Soulmate - where you feel bursts of pain/emotion from your soulmate. When they both realize they are soulmates (they don’t have to physically be together, it’s when both just know they are), each other’s name gets written on their wrist and the pain/emotion bursts lessen. 
> 
> Requested 
> 
> Tags/Warnings: GN! Insecure! Reader, small mentions of self-hatred, a mention of stalking but like in a joking way... there is NO stalking in this au (like when you find yourself looking at someone and it feels like your invading their privacy but you’re not (if that makes any sense)) 
> 
> Word Count: 3.5k+

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

The people around you would fall into a hushed silence or a sudden scream whenever Oikawa Tooru walked past your classroom. Was it an innate reaction? Or something one develops? Maybe it was his flirtatious nature that everyone seemed to like. 

However, you only frowned slightly. You never thought someone like him would be your soulmate or that, after a month, you still haven’t told him. 

First, you suspected that your soulmate did, in fact, exist when you felt spikes of pain in your arms and legs, woke up feeling more tired than when you fell asleep, and felt completely exhausted before dinner. 

Your soulmate just had to play sports… 

You eliminated basketball because that won’t explain the redness on your forearms, neither would tennis or frisbee. And it definitely wasn’t swimming. 

That left volleyball. But, you thought, even if your soulmate  _ did _ play volleyball, that didn’t mean they went to Aoba Johsai. Your next move was to attend one of the volleyball team’s games, which was a lot easier than you thought it would be. Their next match aligned with your free period.

You never thought that you were the type to actively search for your soulmate, and even then, when you were searching for them, it was more out of curiosity than anything else. In fact, the idea of a soulmate scared you. Yes, this person was your ‘other half’, but would they even like that the other half that was you? 

At the match, you watched all of the teams playing that day just in case you felt something from anyone. Your eyes searched through the blue, orange, white jerseys until a sharp pain went to your side. 

A person, in Aoba Johsai colours, was down on the court. You peered over the bleachers, trying to see past the crowd of turquoise uniforms. You didn’t see what happened, lost in your search, but it seemed bad. A boy with brown hair sat in the center of them, clutching his side. You recognize him. Oikawa Tooru. You’ve seen him around school sometimes. He was never alone; he was either with this one specific person or had a ground of people around him, which intimidated you a bit. You’ve never been good with groups of people. 

An easy smile played on his lips but it didn’t reach his eyes. A rush of regret and panic pushed through you and made your eyes watery. Another boy — the one that Oikawa was always with — grabbed Oikawa’s arm and pulled him up to his feet. One of the coaches wrapped his arms around Oikawa and led him out of the gym. 

The match resumed with a heavy weight in the air. You blinked as the pain in your side faded. The people around you seemed to cheer louder with the absence of Oikawa, as if their screams could replace the strength he carried, and the players on the court seemed to be more focused. 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you grabbed your bag and left the audience. Oikawa Tooru? It could have been a coincidence. You pushed through the last set of doors to the main floor and shook your head, you could still hear the faint cheering of the crowd. 

Oikawa sat on a bench outside the nurse’s office that was just in front of the door you came out of. He was breathing heavily with his head in his hands, mumbling to himself. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, absentmindedly, and then immediately cursed yourself for it. Clearly, he wasn’t.

Oikawa blinked with confusion as he looked at you. Early that day, you changed out of school uniform into regular clothes, so he was probably wondering if you came with a school or not. He didn’t recognize you. But a small smile played on his lips as if he was trying to hide his pain, but you could see it in his eyes. 

“I’ve been better, but thank you. Are you leaving? Is the game over already?” His tone was light and playful, already knowing that the game hasn’t ended. 

“No, it’s not. I have...” You hesitated. You couldn’t tell him you left because you felt his pain when he fell. “...homework?”

He raised his eyebrows, an amused look took over his face. “Homework? You don’t sound so sure.” 

“Well,” you flushed, “I’m not too sure about most things.” 

You felt the tightness and nervousness in your chest ease. He was right in front of you. Maybe you should pinch yourself to see if he felt something? Would that be too obvious?

You swallowed, doubt flooding your mind. Tons of people must go up to him and claim that he is their soulmate even if they know it wasn’t true; probably just to see if they could shoot their shot, to see if they could change a little bit of destiny by pure will. 

Who were you to claim otherwise then? Just another person shooting their shot?

“Do you—” Oikawa started. 

“Oikawa!” Someone shouted from down the hall.

Oikawa turned his head down the hall and then back to you. A small drop of his sadness filled your chest, which made you frown. 

“Have fun,” you said and took a step in the opposite direction of the shouting voice, “with the rest of your match, I mean.” You straightened your back slightly and gave him a small smile. “I imagine it to be great.” 

He didn’t respond. You glanced over your shoulder and saw him staring back at you, a thoughtful look on his face. With the best smile you could muster, you said, “It was nice meeting you. 

You walked away before learning his reaction. But you could feel his happiness and excitement building up. 

Whatever that person was telling him must have been good. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

A month had passed since the volleyball game and your meeting with Oikawa. You kept all of your suspicions to yourself, which stopped being suspicion and you began to know it as the truth. 

Oikawa was definitely your soulmate. 

The ache in your legs and arms, including the redness in your forearms, continued with random spikes of pain in your knees and sometimes your head. It made you feel like a stalker, knowing everything he felt; it was a weird sensation. You never had so much courage and so very little confidence in telling him. So, you did the one thing you knew what to do, you gathered information about him, which made you feel  _ even _ more like a stalker. 

You heard from other people that he was nice, or at least nice enough, he wasn’t mean or rude necessarily. He spent most of his time playing volleyball, and, from the other girls in your class, was very flirtatious with everyone. But you knew that he couldn’t learn everything about him without actually talking to him.

Everyone knew him and he knew everyone. 

So, you just let it be and did the other thing that made sense to you; you avoided him like the plague. The moments you saw him in the hallway, and maybe he saw you too, you would turn in the other way before anything could happen. You kept your head low and only stayed at school for as long as you had to. 

But just knowing kept you up at night with questions. 

Did he even have the time to realize that he had already met his soulmate?

And if he did, would he even care that it was you?

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You were right. 

You overheard someone talking to Oikawa near the back field during lunch. They stated their reasonings for being soulmates and asked if he felt the same way. 

A spark of Oikawa’s hopefulness ran through you. 

You saw him roll up his sleeve and look at his wrist. He gave the person a sad smile and shook his head. The hopefulness quickly faded. The girl walked away. 

Maybe he was looking for his soulmate too. 

You packed up your things. Your speed varied as you approached him, both hesitant and filled to the brim with courage. It’ll be like ripping off a band-aid, you told yourself, don’t lose your nerve. You came up from behind him. Should you tap him on the shoulder? Walk in front of him?

“I heard that your match was great.” You winced. That match was a month ago...he probably doesn’t even know what you’re talking about. 

Oikawa turned at the sound of your voice, a smile plagued his lip. A surge of happiness went through you but you couldn’t tell if it was his or your own. “I recall that it was,” he said. “I didn’t catch your name.” 

“(L/N), (F/N).” 

“Oikawa Tooru,” he said. 

You cocked your head to the side. “Would it be strange to say that I already know who you are?” 

Oikawa frowned. “Then how do I not know you?” 

“Maybe it’s a matter of perspective.” You shrugged. A sense of guilt covered you. This time you knew it was Oikawa’s. You wondered if he felt anything you did. 

“Maybe,” he said, smiling a little, “you should come to every game. As a good luck charm.”

You laughed, scoffing slightly. “I think all my luck went into that one sentence. I’m not known to be lucky.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” he said. He began to rub the wrist of his where his soulmate’s name would be — where your name would be. “So you actually go to this school. I wasn’t sure when I met you. Every time I thought I saw you here, you’d be gone in a moment.” 

“Yeah, about that I—” A hand clapped on your shoulder making you jump backwards, colliding with Oikawa. You fell hard onto the ground; Oikawa laid slightly beneath you groaning. Your elbow had dug into the ground, which took most of the impact and made the rest of your arm numb. 

You winced and rolled off of Oikawa. “Sorry.”

Oikawa sat up and rubbed his neck. After a moment, a dull thud of pain spread through your back. He stood up slowly and glared at the person half-heartedly. You looked up to see a boy in a club jacket with a horrified look on his face. 

“I am so sorry,” the boy said, the look of horror only growing on his face, “I thought that you were someone else.”

Oikawa let out an annoyed puff of air and offered you a hand. 

You blinked, panic rising in your chest. The confidence of telling Oikawa he was your soulmate disappeared the moment someone else showed up. You looked around and saw that a small group was forming around you.

You could have done it, you crushed yourself. You could have done it if it was just you and him. 

Your throat began to tighten, threatening to cry. You hated yourself for it. And you hated yourself for ignoring Oikawa’s hand and running away. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Oikawa felt like he couldn’t breathe and the tightness in his chest and throat only grew when he watched you run away. 

It wasn’t his panic. He rarely felt panic; maybe it was because he was used to doing things under pressure, but the new sensation caused him to stumble back. The voices around him grew fuzzy and he tried to focus but it was almost crippling. 

He grabbed your forgotten bag and ran off in your direction. 

Oikawa shook his head, trying to physically shake off the lingering feeling of disappointment from his “soulmate” confession. It was hard for him to be mad. He couldn’t be mad at the person who thought that he was their soulmate. He would hear their arguments and feelings that they had, but it never coincided with what he felt and their names never appeared on his wrist. 

Even when he was young, he loved the idea of soulmates and dreamt about what it would be like when he finally found his. His mom told him to be patient, but he couldn’t help but feel hopeful or excited every time he felt the way his soulmate did or when people told him that they might be soulmates. 

And as he grew older, the thought of his soulmate never left his mind. However, as he started playing volleyball and needed more time to study for school and upcoming exams, it distracted him from actively seeking out his soulmate when he gained more freedom in life just by getting older. 

His mom told him that it was a good thing, that he’ll be more surprised once he actually finds out. He disagreed, but kept that to himself. 

One day, he thought, just not today. 

Lunch was almost over and most of the students were already filing back into the building. You probably wouldn’t go there, Oikawa thought, too many people and you didn’t have your bag. He walked around the front of the school aimlessly, half his mind on finding you and the other half trying to piece together all of the emotions he felt that he knew weren't his. 

That burst of happiness when he took a test a couple of weeks ago (which was very strange to him), but it did make him wonder what made his soulmate so happy. The day one of his teammates crashed into him on court and he had to sit out for a bit, besides the panic and the regret he felt for not being careful, he remembered an anxiousness building inside of him that wasn’t his own; one that felt as if he found out something he shouldn’t have. 

His lips twitched into a small smile as he passed the front gate and slowed his pace. 

That was the day he met you. 

You had come through the stairway door that led up to the bleachers. At first, he didn’t know whether or not you went to Aoba Johsai, you were wearing regular clothes, but something in his mind told him that he had seen you before. And despite your short conversation with each other, you made him feel better. 

It was the confidence in your voice when you left, as if you already knew they were going to win without a single doubt. 

He turned a corner and saw you sitting beneath the shade of a tree, glaring at the ground and pulling out blades of grass. 

Seeing you made him remember the shape pain he felt when the two of you fell. He expected pain from the fall to the ground, but not from his elbow where he didn’t land. Oikawa stayed in place and watched you as you flopped onto your back and stared up at the sky. 

He kind of felt like a stalker, which made him frown. He walked up to you and felt a light itch on his wrist, but ignored it. 

“You forgot this,” he said.

You bolted up. Oikawa held up your bag to you. 

You paused and took your bag, and placed it beside you. “Thanks.” 

“Are you okay?” he asked, then winced, knowing that you weren’t. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the slight breeze in the air that felt nice on his skin. The school bell rang, a loud, sharp  _ ding _ . Oikawa had never skipped class before, but he didn’t mind. 

You let out a breath and laid back down on the grass. “This conversation feels oddly familiar.” 

Oikawa chuckled. He lowered himself to the ground and sat down beside your legs still facing you. The ground was a little cold and with the added shade of the tree, he felt himself shiver slightly. 

“Cold?” you asked, absently. 

“You’re not.” 

You covered your eyes with the back of your hand. Oikawa froze. Scribbled on your wrist was his name written in black ink. You didn’t seem to notice, in fact, it seemed as if you were trying to lower yourself into the ground as much as possible like you wanted to disappear and be one with the grass. 

“Sorry I ran away,” you said. 

Oikawa didn’t answer you. He pulled his sleeve back, the one he had checked every time someone told him they were soulmates. Sure enough, written in the same scribbled handwriting was your name on his wrist. Oikawa grinned. 

For the longest time he had wanted to find his soulmate and they were sitting right in front of him. 

“Oikawa?” 

He pulled down his sleeve. “Sorry. And it’s okay. Are you feeling better now?” 

You sat up. “I’ve been better.” Your eyes met his and you frowned. “Why are you smiling?” Oikawa’s smile only grew. These were the eyes he gets to see every day. 

“I’ve always wanted a soulmate,” he said. You froze, but he continued. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life. Even though some people might hate it, knowing that there is only one person out there in the world of billions of people who are their other half, I’ve always felt that one person is enough.” 

You swallowed and subconsciously started to pull out blades of grass. 

“One person would be all I need and all I could ever want,” he went on. He met your eyes again, his smile deflated slightly and moulded into a kind, more genuine one. “You were going to tell me at lunch, weren’t you?” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I tried, but people started to crowd around us and… I got nervous.” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, “you did nothing wrong. In fact, I think it was brave that you were going to. It takes a lot of courage to take a chance.” 

You didn’t respond, so Oikawa went on. “When did you find out?” 

“The day I met you.” 

Oikawa frowned at that. He felt a slight panic build in his chest and saw you starting to grow pale. “I’m not mad,” he rushed out. “It’s just—that was a month again. How did _ I _ not know? You were right there.” 

You shrugged. “Maybe you saw me but you weren’t really looking.” 

“Why didn't you tell me?” 

You hesitated and furrowed your eyebrows. Oikawa could feel you calming down little by little as you talked. You moved to cross your legs and sat up a bit straighter. “I already knew who you were when I first thought that we were soulmates. But I also knew that you didn’t know me. I see how busy you are. I feel how tired you are. And I see you get soulmate confession every other week. Who am I to pile on top of that?” 

He blinked. “You’re my soulmate,” Oikawa said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

You let out a puff of air that was almost a half laugh. “I didn’t even know if you would have time for me.” You paused. “Or if I was even good enough to be  _ your  _ soulmate, so I thought that it would be best to keep it to myself. At least at that time...” 

“Good enough for me?” he echoed. “Would I be good enough for  _ you _ ?” 

“What?” 

Oikawa paused for a moment. All his nervousness, his disappointment from earlier, had completely disappeared. He smiled to himself. It was the calmness he felt when he was sure of something, absolutely doubtless. Maybe it was enough for you to feel it too, his certainty.

His voice was low but gentle like rain when it patters on the window. “(Y/N)...we live in a world of soulmates, two people destined to be together. But it doesn’t take our choice or chance to get to know each other. I might not be good enough for you or you might not be good enough for me, but I do know that we’ll never find that out if we don’t know each other.” 

You glanced up at him. “How about,” he continued, “we learn that for ourselves, get to know each other, trust each other, and down the line, if you still feel that way, then we’ll work it out together.”

You bit your lip, a smile tugging to come out. “For what it’s worth, I would have told you by the end of the school year.” 

Oikawa snorted at that. Your other point was still valid though. He knew what it was like being him, having people crowd around him and constantly talking to people, but he never thought what it was like to see all of that from the outside and how intimidating it must have been. And he did spend a lot of his time practising volleyball….

“And you’re right,” he said, bringing himself closer to you. “I don’t have a lot of time on my hands. But I will make time.” 

“You don’t—”

“But I will.” He brushed his hand against yours and took it as a good when you didn’t flinch back and he didn’t feel any panic rising back up inside of him. “I will prove it to you every way I can. And I know you know that.” 

You raised your eyebrows, an amused smile slowly made its way to your eyes. “How?”

“Because you feel what I do.”

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**EXTRA SCENE**

“I was wondering...” Oikawa said. It was nearing the end of the school day. The two of you had talked the afternoon away, completely forgetting about your classes. It wouldn’t be long until the bell would ring. “Do you remember what happened a few weeks ago? On April 26?” 

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to remember. “Maybe? Why?” 

Oikawa grabbed his bag and offered you a hand off the ground. His grip was tight against yours, like you would disappear if let go of you. You and Oikawa started towards the entrance gate. 

“I was taking a test and felt really happy all of a sudden, which made me confused because happiness and tests don’t go together.” 

You felt heat rising to your cheeks. “Oh...that was the day my favourite show got renewed for another season…” 

Oikawa threw his head back with laughter. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I hope you like this one-shot. 
> 
> It’s the first new one I’m writing/wrote for a while so I might be a little rusty….but I’ll try to write as much as I can to give you guys new one-shots with Bacon!! (IT'S GOOD SHH -Bacon)
> 
> Thank you for reading! - Kiwi


	51. Red Collar - Yaku Morinosuke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Regular/Famous Libero
> 
> Requested 
> 
> Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader
> 
> Word Count: 2k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

With the monthly release of Japan's young athlete magazine also came the monthly team meeting of the Nekoma boys volleyball club. Matching with their sets of red and white tracksuits, the boys gathered in their club room all huddling around their setter as he held the flimsy plastic-like paper open. 

"Oh, they've got some of the highlights of Tokyo's last game, comments from the new players. Flip, flip!" Taketora chanted, pumping his fist in the air at the back of the group.

"Kenma read it."

The setter sighed, dropping his head as he lifted the magazine bit to show off the images as he read the words slowly. “ _ With the new season only just started, and school just around the corner. Tokyo's newest players talk about their first few games in the professional league and balancing school. _ ”

"Hmm professional school balancers, I wonder if they tightrope too."

The captain looked over to the wide-eyed boy, who easily stared back with a completely flat expression. "Fukunaga, I think that was the worst one yet. I love it."

"Shh."

Kenma continued. " _ 'I'll be attending classes at a school,' (L/N) says, 'I want to experience my final year as similarly to everyone else as I can before playing full time. It'll be hard, but I'm committed.' Both players are currently attending the schools they have been previously enrolled with in person, and joining team practices in the afternoon. _ "

"Jeez, I can hardly keep up with school as it is. Imagine doing both!" 

Kai looked over his shoulder at the bleached mohawk haired boy. "You hardly do school work as it is, you'd be fine."

"I'm trying to read here," Kenma spoke up tiredly, turning his attention to the next page where the article finished off followed by in-game and staged shots of the two athletes. "It looks like Tokyo has a home game in two weeks. Maybe we can grab tickets?"

Kai grabbed the magazine and flipped through some of the following pages as Kuroo slapped Kenma's back with an approving cheer.

"Woah! They actually published the article on our team from nationals last year.”

Yaku looked over the arm of his taller friend. Quickly catching sight of a candid shot of him mid-save. “Ouch, I don’t look good in that photo.”

“They wrote a whole article on you though! ‘Nekoma’s lead defenceman’ is pretty cool.” 

The four new first years huddled around, in a mixture of awe and disappointment reading the page over their vice-captains shoulder. Kai, noticing their slight disappointment handed the magazine over. “Maybe if we’re lucky they’ll write another one about us this year and you guys will be in it too.”

Kuroo hummed in agreement. “I wonder if our seniors have seen it yet. Well, it’s exciting, but there’s no point dwelling on it, we got to pack up and head home, it’s getting cold out.”

Yaku, already packed with his back hanging off his shoulder, took hold of the sports magazine as he leaned against the wall next to the door. His thumb pressed against the pages, letting them flick out into his other hand until he came to see the familiar face of one of his favourite liberos. A shadow leaned over him.

“Are you gonna cut them out or something?”

Grimacing, Yaku shoved his elbow out into the giant Russian first-year’s side. “Shut it, Lev. Come on, let’s go.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Ah, I haven’t been here since first-year.” 

“Think you can walk home?” your mom asked, leading over the passenger seat to make eye-contact through the window.

“Ya, I think so. I just didn’t want to get lost on my way here. So I should be good.”

“Alright.” She shut her eyes for a moment, pursing her lips. “When’s your next practice?”

“We’ve got tonight off, but the next one is tomorrow immediately after school when we get there.” You hopped slightly, adjusting the bag on your shoulders.

“So four?”

You hummed as she gave you a confirming nod before waving and pressing on the gas, letting a visible puff of air escape the exhaust in its wake. Your eyes followed the vehicle until it turned around the next corner and you pulled the loose piece of paper from your pocket unfolding it.

The diagram of the school’s layout was drawn in black ink, with red ink from a pen indicating what classes you had and where they were as well as an overall map of the whole campus. Luckily making your way through the hallways was done easier by the complete lack of students in the early morning, except those that were in clubs and willing to offer their help.

Your homeroom teacher greeted you with a kind smile, handing you the sheets from the week prior that you had missed and showing you the seat you would be making home in next to the window. As your teacher worked through the papers that were left on the desk, you skimmed through your gifted sheets before swapping them with the sports magazine you had gotten in the mail. Flipping over your own article to aimlessly read through the pages.

“Our school team is on page 23.” The boy’s voice was calm as he took what you guessed to be his seat beside you. Catching sight of his tan skin and short dark hair you gulped.

“I-I know. You’re Kai Nobuyuki, right? They mentioned you in the article.”

“Sure am. And you are (L/N), from the Tokyo team. They did say you were going to be attending a school in person, wouldn’t have guessed that it would’ve been Nekoma.”

You closed the flimsy book in your hand and tucked it into your bag as you spun in your seat, facing the opposite hitter head-on. “I’ve been enrolled with Nekoma since before I got recruited, but my family and I saw it fit to do the classes outside of school so I should focus on my team.” You paused, watching the boy hum and nod along as he listened, making you smile lightly. “I decided to try and attend as many classes as I could in my final year to make some friends and memories, you know.”

“I get it, just didn’t expect to be meeting a V league libero in such a casual setting,” he said as he fell languidly into his seat as the rest of your unknown classmates began to pile in.

“I wouldn’t say V league, I’m only the sub.”

“You play in games don’t you?”

“I mean, ya—”

“Then don’t discredit yourself.”

Eyebrows raised, you sunk back into your seat facing your teacher. A moment passed before Kai leaned over the space between your two desks.

“How did you know my name anyway?”

You let out a quiet airy laugh. “I have to support my school teams even if I’m not here don’t I?”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Do you plan on joining the school team?” Kai asked, walking alongside you as you left the school building.

Kai, much like yourself, didn’t plan on attending college and instead was aiming to join the family business after high school. So in a similar twist of events, both of you ended up in a majority of the same classes, outside the class 5 college prep. 

“I wish I could, but I essentially have a full/part-time job waiting for me after school. I’m just lucky to be off practice for today.”

You walked through the cold air toward the boy’s gym where you were excited to have the chance to see them practice instead of relying on poorly recorded tapes of their few official games. Kai began to take off his school shoes, swapping them with his volleyball pair, as he sat on the closest bench. Smiling you followed suit.

“You brought volleyball shoes?”

“I figured since I'm not at my team’s practice, I could have my own here. I didn’t know you guys had your practice scheduled, I was gonna play either way.” Tying up your left lace, you jumped to your feet and began hopping back and forth on your toes.

Kai hummed, “Wanna help me set up the nets before the coach and the rest of the team shows?”

“The earlier it’s up the earlier we play!”

“Eager, come on.”

The sports closet, as expected, was jam-packed with rackets, basketballs, and more. Hanging on the walls were the tall metal poles that were waiting to get slotted into the wood floor. Kai stepped ahead of you, grabbing hold of the highest one and setting the wheeled end on the floor, pulling it into the gym. Following his lead, you reached for the next.

“Hey, Kai! Need help with those?” you heard someone call from the gym entrance.

“Not with the poles, I got a hand. But if you want to grab the net.”

You dropped the wheel to the floor and began pulling the bar into the gym.

Kai, twisting the pole into the metal slot in the floor, smiled at his friends, and continued to talk to Kuroo as Yaku began to walk backwards toward the gym closet, head tilted and strawberry blond hair bouncing with each step.

“Oh? who’s here early?” Kuroo asked.

Yaku turned, freezing in his steps at the familiar figure carrying the weight of the equipment. “(L/N). (L/N) (Y/N). You’re the libero on the Tokyo V league team!”

“Sub libero.”

Footsteps began to crowd in the doorway.

“Woah,” one said, walking to the libero’s side, forgetting to swap his shoes at the door. “Eh, Yaku, isn’t this the player you cut out of the magazine?”

With a quick pivot, Yaku spun and shoved his knee into Lev’s side, cheeks flushed and lips pinching.The younger student sputter out a string of unknown words. “Shut it!”

You chuckled taking the last few steps to set the pole in place, catching the explanation Kair gave his captain as they walked out of the closet with the mesh net. Kai replaced your spot and began tying up the last bit of equipment.

“Yaku?”

The rosy-blond turned away from scolding the silver-haired first-year. “You know my name.”

“Of course I do, you’re part of the school’s team.”

“But you know it.” His eyes were blown open.

“Well, I have been following Nekoma’s volleyball teams since I enrolled.”

“Enrolled?!”

Laughing, you sidestepped around the libero to assist the taller student to his feet. “I've been enrolled in Nekoma’s student database for the last 2 years.”

“How did I not know this.”

“Calm down. I’m not going to quiz you. But if it helps, I’m a fan of yours too.” You leaned forward in a deep bow. “I hope you treat me well.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The boy’s club room, like a few others, was a mess. Bags were scattered around and sweaty boys lazily wore their red jackets as they calmed down after a hard practice, slowly prepping with food and drinks to watch the game that was fast approaching.

“Where did my jacket go?” Yaku huffed as he shovelled his hands through his bag.

“You probably left it in the gym,” Kai said. Cutting Kuroo off before he could let out a snipe whip in Yaku’s direction.

“Oh whatever, has the line up started yet?”

“It’s about to! Hurry up!”

“Don’t be rude!”

As Nekoma’s boy’s volleyball team fully settled into their seats, laptop set on a table, streaming the game, Tokyo’s and Okinawa’s V League teams walked out for their introductions. Yaku smiled when he saw your grinning face be zoomed in on during the national anthem. After the next additional minutes, the game was close to starting, everyone returning from the changing rooms with their track jackets and water bottles. They all leaned a little closer when your head appeared on the screen.

“No way.”

“Is that?”

Kai slapped Yaku’s shoulder, pulling him out of his flabbergasted state. “Well, we know what happened to your jacket.”

Underneath the collar of your team’s coat, poked out a familiar red tracksuit jacket. 

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tumblr banner for this one took too long to make…… I should've just used photoshop honestly. I like the end result though -Bacon 
> 
> (All of the banners are amazing thanks to you Bacon!! - Kiwi p.s this one is cute:( side note too: I have no idea how to put/if I can put banners on ao3...if there is a way, I'll try to add them because they are amazing)


	52. How Do You Say...? - Oikawa Tooru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Band (kind of - not really) / a low-key songfic (based on If I Could Tell Her - Dear Evan Hansen Musical) 
> 
> Requested (Heads up requester: I change it up just a tad…sorry)
> 
> Tags/ Warnings: GN! Reader 
> 
> Word Count: 6k+

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

_ But he kept it all inside his head / What he saw he left unsaid _

_ And though he wanted to / He couldn't talk to you _

_ He couldn't find the way / But he would always say... _

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Your hand came down hard on Oikawa’s shoulder — or at least as hard as a five-year-old could hit. “Don’t be rude,” you said. 

Oikawa launched forward but caught himself before he fell. He turned and glared at you. “I’m not! He was being mean to you!” 

You held the straps of the backpack tighter and held your head high, jutting out your chin, in the opposite direction as him. The both of you were waiting for Oikawa’s mom to pick you up from school and the one time she ran a bit late, a boy in your class came up to talk to you, which was going well until the boy caught a glimpse of Oikawa’s glare and quickly excused himself. 

Oikawa’s glare, which mainly consisted of scrunching his eyebrows and eyes while pursing his lips, had followed the boy until Oikawa could no longer see him. He had turned and smiled at you sweetly before he was met with a smack on his shoulder. 

“He was talking about the new building he made out of bricks yesterday, Tooru!” You walked a little bit away from him and sat on the newly unoccupied bench, flooding your arms and glazing down at the sidewalk. 

Oikawa looked at you. He knew that you weren’t really mad at him and by the time his mom would come, this would be forgotten about and the conversation would move to whatever the two of you were going to do at his house. He hoped that it was watching the new episode of his favourite cartoon that just aired, but he’ll probably just do whatever you suggested. It had always been hard for him to say no to you. 

Carefully, he walked over to the bench and sat down beside you, not as close as he usually would, but close enough so that no one could sit in between the two of you. 

“I wasn’t talking about what said now,” he grumbled, glaring to the ground. He bit his lip and clutched his hands into fists. “I heard him saying mean things about you during recess.” 

You paused and unfolded your arms. “What did he say?”

“Nothing important.” Oikawa’s voice hardened. “It doesn’t matter. I told our teacher after he said it. That’s why he wasn’t at the play station today.” 

Oikawa bent forward from the bench to get a better view of your face. You were still for a moment and then a small smile broke out on your face and you began to laugh, a fit of giggles that were so contagious, Oikawa’s frown disappeared and he started to laugh alongside you. 

Catching your breath, you reached over and grabbed Oikawa’s hand — still in a fist — and wiggled your fingers into it until your hands were interlocking. You leaned in and kissed him lovingly on the cheek. “Thank you, Tooru.”

Oikawa beamed and held your hand tighter. “Of course! I’m your best friend! I’ll always protect you (Y/N)!”

Oikawa’s mom pulled the car up in front of them and honked the car horn. Both of you jumped at the sound. She lowered down the passenger seat window and smiled. “Ready to go?” 

Oikawa nodded as the two of you climbed down the bench and made your way to the backseat door. He reached for the handle and pulled, stumbling backward from the momentum. He let you get in first and then crawled in behind you.

Once both of your seat belts were on, Oikawa reached over and interlocked your hands again, grinning brightly like no tomorrow. His mom pulled into traffic and glanced at the both of you through the rearview mirror. “Are you holding (Y/N)’s hand Tooru? That’s very sweet of you.” 

Oikawa raised your interlocked hand as high as he could. “Yes! We’re going to stay together forever! Right (Y/N)?” 

He looked over to you expectantly. You were already looking at him with a matching grin of your own. You stared at your hands together and squeezed them. There was no way that your life could get better than this. As long as you hand Oikawa, you had everything you needed. 

“Forever!” you cheered. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“Can you hit me with a bus, Tooru?” You threw yourself on Oikawa’s bed and screamed into his pillow. 

Oikawa laid on the floor of his room balancing a volleyball between his hands. He pushed his arms out again, flinging the ball high in the air which landed perfectly back into his hands with a satisfying  _ thump _ . 

He was getting better every day. He _ needed _ to be better if he was going to make his middle school volleyball club as a setter. Every minute not spent with you was a minute he played and practised the sport. 

He glanced over at you. You were kicking your legs rather dramatically on his bed and your face was planted in his pillow. You made the room shake but he couldn’t do anything else besides smile at you. 

Oikawa placed his volleyball down beside his guitar and made his way to his bed. He nudged your shoulder slightly and you moved over to one side of the bed, automatically making space for him. He laid down beside you and folded one of his hands under his head to make up for the loss of half his pillow. 

“Do you have insurance?” he asked. 

You were very close together, but neither of you minded, neither of you  _ ever _ minded being close together. 

In fact, it felt wrong for Oikawa  _ not  _ to see you every day. He treasured these small moments with you, moments where it was just you and him and everything came secondary to that. Only recently he started seeing you differently than when you were younger. 

He noticed when you held his hand for longer and a wave of sadness would wash over him when you let go. And he noticed that when you smiled he would wish for a camera to capture you in that moment. He noticed a lot of things lately.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was; he was still figuring it out, but it was something that he consciously pushed down every day so that he would still remain your best friend in your eyes. 

“What?” 

“I feel like hitting you with a bus would be such a big hassle if you didn’t have insurance,” he said leisurely. 

You sighed, flipped over, and kicked him in the shin. Now, you were in the same position as Oikawa, staring at the ceiling. He could feel the warmth of your arm pressed against his and closed his eyes, he never felt more peaceful. 

“You need to get another pillow, Tooru.” 

“Why? Usually, I’m the only one in  _ my  _ bed,” he said. 

You poked him in the arm. “You know that that’s not true. I’m here basically every day.” 

Oikawa brought his hand from under his head and rubbed his chin mockingly. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

You frowned “Tooru?”

He hummed in response.

“Do you think you want to be in a relationship?” 

Oikawa’s eyes flew open, his heart pounded hard in his chest. “What?” 

You shrugged from your spot. “I don’t know...A lot of people ask you out and you always say no. Like you say no to things like going to the park after school or watching a movie to anyone who isn’t me or Iwaizumi. I was just curious.” 

Oikawa swallowed. “I—I haven’t really thought about it…” 

“You have a lot of chances though.” 

“I guess? But I want to make the volleyball team.” 

“Well…” you said, and then rubbed your forehead. He thought that that was a little endearing, the way you would visibly show that you were thinking. “You’re probably going to make the team, but what about after? Like long term.” 

Oikawa blinked. “We’re in middle school.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t you want to be in love though? That can start at a young age, can’t it?

Oikawa’s mouth felt dry. “Maybe? (Y/N)—”

A knock came from his door. It slowly pulled open and his mom stuck his head through the crack. “Sorry to interrupt. (Y/N), I was wondering if you wanted to stay for dinner.” 

You sat up and smiled at her. “I can’t today...I have some relatives coming over.” You glanced at Oikawa’s clock that was on his bedside table. “Actually, I should probably go. I could only come if I promised not to be late.” 

You nudged Oikawa to the side and briefly held his hand before slipping off his bed. You looked at him for a moment and whispered, “Are you alright Tooru?”

He nodded stiffly. 

You squeezed his hand and then stood up. “I’ll see you later then.” You smiled again at his mom. “Thank you for having me over.” 

Oikawa’s mom patted you on the shoulder. “Oh, you’re always welcome here, (Y/N). Get home safely.” 

Oikawa turned and waved at you before you left. Once you were out the door, he caught the gaze of his mom. Her eyes were laced with pre-concern, like she could already tell that something was wrong.

“Tooru? Is something wrong?” 

He bit the inside of his lip. “When did you and dad start going out?” 

She raised her eyebrows in surprise but said nothing as she went to sit beside him. “Well, he first asked me out during our second year at university.” 

University? That was so long from now, he thought. He barely knew what love was, his only examples being what he saw on television and his parents. Panic slowly rose to his chest. What if he was already in it and he didn’t even know? Did that mean he would never feel what being in love felt like if he didn’t feel it now? 

“How did you know you loved him?” he asked hesitantly. 

She spoke carefully as she said, “I’m not sure...It happened kind of quickly. After a while, I just knew I wanted him in my life forever. I knew that he would make me smile when I was sad or just comfort me when I need it.” 

Oikawa didn’t meet her gaze; he just twirled his fingers together. “How do you know if it’s different than wanting that but as a friend?” 

She sighed and brought a hand up to brush his hair back. He could tell that she knew what he was talking about — or at least what he was hinting at — and appreciated when she didn’t say it. He didn’t know if he physically wanted to hear it out loud. Listening to someone else say it would make it seem more real. 

He was too young for this, he thought. Why couldn’t things like this be easy?

“I supposed,” she said, “that you’ll just have to take that chance.” She kissed his forehead. “Just try not to wait too long,” she added, “it’s better to say what you need to than regret not saying anything at all.” 

“What if I don’t get a chance,” he whispered. 

“Then you make one.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Oikawa carefully plucked the strings of his guitar. In his mind, nothing came before volleyball for extracurricular activities, but music was a close second. It calmed him in a way volleyball didn’t. He would mindlessly play, letting his fingers — and selected youtube tutorials — guide him through songs. And he wasn’t that bad at it. 

As he got older, volleyball became more intense and since it was his last year of high school, he was determined to make the best out of all his matches and practises even if that meant he would run on very little sleep. However, today was an off day. Morning practice had been cancelled, but his body naturally got up at an early time so he decided to pick up the guitar instead of practising on his own. 

Lately, he had been trying to write his own songs...but it wasn’t going too well. 

So far Oikawa only played for himself and occasionally for you and his mom, but he wanted to play in front of an audience at least once. He wanted to go somewhere he could perform, and if life went the way he planned, he wouldn’t have that much time for music and volleyball would take up most of his time. 

His door opened. 

Iwaizumi came in and shut the door behind him. He wore his club jacket, track pants, and a volleyball was tucked under one of his arms. His volleyball and school bags slung across his shoulder. A frown was prominent on his face. 

“I didn’t hear you come in.” Oikawa furrowed his eyebrows. “Or knock. Or speak.” 

“Your mom let me in,” he said shrugging. He walked over and smacked Oikawa upside the head. “I’ve been waiting outside for 15 minutes. Where were you?” 

Oikawa rubbed his head and gave Iwaizumi a nervous smile. “Oh...yeah. Sorry. I forgot to tell you to go ahead without me if you were going to practice anyway.” 

Iwaizumi glared and threw Oikawa’s club jacket that was hanging on the back of the door at him. “Well, I’m here now. Get dressed.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“You should tell (Y/N),” Iwaizumi said. 

Oikawa shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked the pebble in front of him. Iwaizumi had been his closest friend besides you and the moment he found out Oikawa’s feelings for you, he told Oikawa, almost immediately, to tell you. 

Oikawa thought about it and then immediately placed it in the box in the back of his mind where he chose to forget things. 

It was still early in the day; the sun had just barely risen and long shadows stretched across the street as the two boys walked. Oikawa took a deep breath of the cool air. They’ve had this conversation before and it always ended the same way. He didn’t know why Iwaizumi still brought it up from time to time. He sighed. “Don’t you think if I could tell them, I would?” 

“Then why don’t you?” he asked.

Oikawa glanced at Iwaizumi. His head was facing forward and a hard look of indifference was on his face. 

“(Y/N)’s my best friend — besides you, of course — and if I tell them and they don’t feel the same way, it’ll ruin our friendship. It’ll be awkward and weird. And that’s the last thing I want to happen. I won’t let that happen.” 

They walked in silence until they reached the club room. He could hear the faint thuds of volleyballs hitting the ground and the squeak of shoes on the floor. A scene of happiness went through him. It was confronting to know that there was a group of people who were just as passionate about volleyball as him that they would come in even when practise was cancelled. 

Just before they entered the room, Iwaizumi grabbed his arm and pulled him back. 

“(Y/N) is my friend too,” he said. He let out a huff of annoyance like it was paining him to say the words. “And...they tell me things I really didn’t want to know.” 

Oikawa frowned. “Don’t tell me.” 

“Don’t you  _ want  _ to  _ know  _ what they said,” he emphasized. 

Oikawa thought for a moment. He ignored the pang of pain that went through him that there was something you wanted Iwaizumi to know and not him. “No...(Y/N) told you and you should know. They didn’t tell me of a reason.” 

Iwaizumi mumbled to himself and shook his head. “Just tell them.” 

“Why do you even care so much?” 

Iwaizumi let out a sigh that sounded half exasperated and half angry with a tone of sadness. “I think you’ll regret it if you don’t. Have you ever thought that (Y/N) might like back in the same way?”

Okawa felt drained and the day hasn’t even started. “Then why wouldn’t they tell me?”

The club door opened and a confused Kindaichi poked his head out. “I heard noises outside. Are you going to come in? Or...? The door was unlocked...”

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi said to Kindaichi. He waited until the first-year went back into the room and then turned back to Oikawa. His face softened but only a fraction. “Maybe the same reason you never told them.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Even after a week passed, his talk with Iwaizumi still lingered in his head and Oikawa had kicked himself every day since. He was usually good at pushing aside his feelings, placing them so far away from his mind it was like it never existed, but Iwaizumi — curse him, Oikawa thought — brought up things that he purposefully ran away from. 

He had been wandering about for more than an hour. First, he walked to your house because he felt more confused than he ever felt in his life and he wanted to talk to his best friend; but his confusion was about you and...that was not a conversation he wasn’t ready to have yet. 

Then, he started towards Iwaizumi’s house but quickly doubled back in fear that Iwaizumi might say something that he didn’t want to hear again. He couldn’t risk it.

As he kept walking, Oikawa found himself back at your house. A ghostly smile appeared on his face as memories flooded his mind from his childhood with you. He remembered holding your hand on those front steps as you cried from a scraped knee. The same stairs he didn’t dare go up now.

“Tooru?” 

Oikawa spun around. His throat felt suddenly dried. “Hey, (Y/N).” 

Your face lit up as you saw him and you quickened your pace to get to him. “It’s fantastic that you are here!”

“It is?”

“I have a date!” 

Numbness took over him. Oikawa felt like someone stabbed him in the heart and his hand gripped the handle ready to take it out, but he couldn’t at the risk of bleeding out. All he could do was prevent the knife from getting twisted. “What?”

“They volunteer with me. I was going to call you too but my phone and I think I lost my charger,” you continued. “Oh! Want to come with me to get a new one?”

Oikawa wanted to scream at himself for being so stupid. He waited too long. But you looked so happy, beaming like the sun, and he loved your smile. He wondered a lot if you knew how your smile affected him. “That’s great,” he said. “I’m really happy for you (Y/N).” 

“Thank you.” 

“And I will go get a charger with you,” he said lightly as he could. He took a deep breath and smiled. “Only out of the fear that you’ll get lost because it has happened before.”

You rolled your eyes, but grabbed his arm and led him towards your front door. “Did you want to ask me something?” 

He swallowed. “What? Why would you think that?” 

“You were waiting at my house, weren’t you?

Oikawa’s mind blanked. “Uh...My mom — My mom was wondering if you wanted to come over for my birthday dinner next week.” 

You nodded. “Of course! Do you even have to ask?” 

You turned to face him and pulled him into a hug. “I have a really good feeling about your birthday this year Tooru.” 

He nodded and hesitantly wrapped his arms around you. He could feel your heartbeat pounding against his chest, a steady, reassuring rhythm; and even though you were so close, you never felt so far away. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Oikawa banged his head against the front door of his house.

“Stupid,” he muttered. “Stupid. Stupid.  _ Stupid _ .” 

After a few more times, he leaned against the door head first. He just arrived back at his house after spending time at your house. Surprisingly, to him, he was able to keep his calm even if he felt like dying on the inside. It was the only time he could recall not wanting to spend time with you. 

He yelped as the door suddenly opened and he fell forward headfirst into the house. 

“Tooru!” His mom rushed to him and helped him up. “Why were you knocking on the door?” 

Oikawa met his mom’s gaze. “I lost my chance.” 

His mom furrowed her eyebrows. “What? Lost what chance?” 

“(Y/N). Someone asked them out.” 

“Oh, Tooru…” She sat beside him and rubbed his back. She would do this a lot when he was younger whenever he felt sad. It felt a little childish, but he leaned in and enjoyed the confronting touch. 

He stayed quiet for a while more and then stood up. He offered a hand to his mom, helping her up. “I’ll be in my room,” he said, kicking off his shoes. 

“Your dad’s going to be at work a bit late so let’s go out for dinner tonight,” his mom suggested hopefully. “We can go to that restaurant you like.” 

Oikawa just wanted to lay in bed and stare blankly at the ceiling, but he didn’t want to worry his mom by saying no. Maybe going out with his mom would be good. “Sure. I’d like that.” 

She smiled. “I’ll call you down when we’re going.” 

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Oikawa made his way to his room and shut the door lightly. He caught a glimpse of his guitar that was left on his bed after Iwaizumi came over. He picked it up gingerly and placed it in his lap. Automatically, his hand went to the neck of the guitar and to the chords of a song that he was working on. 

He never had trouble with finding the base of the song, what chords it would have or the melody that would accompany it; his Achilles’ heel has always been lyrics. The videos and articles he saw online always said to write from the heart, what he knew about, what he wanted, or had an opinion on, but not much crossed his mind besides volleyball. And one could only write so much about volleyball into a song. 

The only other topic he knew was things about you. Your favourite colour, food, and flower. All of those minor details about you that others would overlook, and more, would be forever in his mind. 

He took a notebook from his bag. He dribbled his pencil against the empty page. Perhaps, it wasn’t what he wanted to say that should be the lyrics to the song. Maybe he should write about all the things that he left unsaid. 

Today, he knew what to write. 

Today, words didn’t leave him when he needed them the most. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You banged your head against your bedroom door. You turned and slid down the length of the door until you reached the floor. Leaning your head back, you closed your eyes and tried to recall the date. 

Your date was...strange to say the least.

They spoke about themselves and let you talk about yourself, which was good. That was the whole point of dating. Having to learn about someone was a skill that you haven’t used in a long time. But, you had grown used to spreading your days with Oikawa, someone who knew you inside and out, and someone you knew in the same way. 

Whenever they would say something about themselves, your mind immediately went to what Oikawa liked instead. You weren’t trying to be disrespectful, but you felt like you were.

“I really like melon bread,” they had said.  _ Oikawa likes milk bread. _

“I started to play basketball recently. Do you play any sports?”  _ Oikawa plays volleyball...And I only know about volleyball because of him. _

“What is wrong with me,” you muttered. 

You only agreed to go out because they seemed nice and your friend told you that you couldn’t sit around all day and wait for the one person you did want to go out with: Oikawa. 

When you bumped into him earlier that week, you were really excited and you wanted to tell your best friend. And even when you told him about it, just talking about the date felt wrong, like jamming two pieces of a puzzle together knowing that they didn’t fit together. 

Sometimes you thought that it would have been easier if you and Oikawa met later in life, you wouldn’t have this barrier of a long friendship that prevented you from becoming more. But every time the idea surfaced in your mind, you instantly took it back. You wouldn’t trade your love for Oikawa — the way it was today — for anything. 

The blaring of your ringtone made you jump. 

“Hello?” you said, rubbing your forehead. 

“Yes! Is this (L/N), (F/N)?”

“It is.” 

“Great. I’m calling from the message you left earlier? There is one happening on the 19th.”

You smiled and some of the tension in your chest disappeared. Even if you and Oikawa weren’t going to be anything more, it would be worth it in this lifetime to add to his happiness. 

You were going to tell him and then you wouldn’t have to wait anymore. You just needed the right moment and if one wasn’t going to come to you then you were going to find one. 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

“Thank you so much for dinner,” you said to Oikawa’s parents. 

“Of course!” His dad said. 

His mom nodded in agreement. “We’re really happy that you and Oikawa stayed friends after kindergarten.” A dreamy expression took over her face. “I remember when the two of you were so small and you would hold hands all the time—” 

“Mom,” Oikawa groaned, but his cheeks were rosy as he smiled brightly.

His mom got up from her seat, walked over to Oikawa, pushed back his hair and kissed him on the forehead. “You’re growing up too fast,” she cried. “You need to stop.” 

“I don’t think he has much of a choice,” his dad laughed. 

She shushed him and hugged Oikawa’s shoulders lovingly. “Happy birthday, Tooru.” 

“Thanks, mom.” 

You smiled. You thought it was cute how Oikawa’s mom was always so loving to him despite the fact that Oikawa had become pretty imitating this year, especially at school. It was surprising how many times you heard people talking about it. But you knew that he was a huge softie, which amused you greatly. “Speaking of birthdays, do you mind if I borrow him for the rest of the night?” 

His mom nodded. “Don’t do anything illegal.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Oikawa smirked, an amused gleam flashed through his face. He spotted you out the corner of his eye and winked. “You know I love me some hardcore drugs.” 

You choked back a laugh. His mom smacked him on the shoulder and glared at him. 

The two of you excused yourselves from the table and you told Oikawa to get his guitar and meet you at the front door. Oikawa raised his eyebrows. “For what?” 

“It’s a surprise.” 

Oikawa shook his head and wiggled an accusing finger at you. “You better not murder me.” 

You feigned shock. “On your birthday? Of course not! Cleary, I would wait until the day after; murdering you on your birthday would just be mean.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Oikawa adjusted the strap of his guitar bag on his back. “Uh, (Y/N)? Where are we?”

You opened your arms grandly and gestured to the café. “Happy birthday!” 

The floor was covered with a dark hardwood. Matching tables and chairs were scattered around the space and there were no more than twenty people lounging about with half-full cups in front of them. A warm feeling swirled in the air that mixed with coffee grounds and chocolate. 

The majority of the people were crowded around the back of the café. An empty stool sat at the front of the crowd with a microphone beside it.

“Thank you?” he said. He looked around again. “Are you going to buy me a coffee?” 

“No. Well, I could if you want one.” You patted him on the shoulder, a nervous smile on your face. “But that is your present.” You pointed to the microphone. 

Oikawa blinked. 

“You wanted to play in front of people right? At least once?” you continued. “Now's your chance. Today is an open mic night.” 

He swallowed and gripped the strap of the guitar bag harder. He didn’t feel nervous performing in front of people, he just had no clue what to play. All of the songs he knew suddenly left his brain. Could he just do anything he wanted? 

Oikawa turned to you. He reached out and tugged the ends of your hair affectionately. And froze, for a moment, realizing what he did. Hastily, he pulled his hand back. 

“Thank you,” he said quickly. He ran to the stage before he could gauge any reaction from you. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief second, willing himself to try to think of a song to play. 

He sat on the stool and was greeted by a small round of applause. Oikawa smiled at them and placed his hands on the neck of the guitar, only to fall flat to notice that his guitar was still strapped to his back in the bag. 

Oikawa blanched. “Sorry,” he said into the mic, “one second.” 

The crowd laughed lightly. Oikawa took the guitar out of its case and laid his hands on the chords testing it out. He had the crowd’s attention again and a small spotlight shined on him. Nerves crept up on him, but as soon as he met your eyes, saw your smile, he knew he could do it. 

“Hi,” he said more confidently. “This is my first time doing something like this... I, uhh, wrote this song recently. I hope you enjoy it.” 

He started off a little shaky, plucking the beginning chords softly. Shortly after, he began to sing the lyrics he had written the day he found out about your date. The lyrics were telling of how he felt about you, but he didn’t care. It’s now or never.

The brown-haired boy sang the words that he wanted to say to you every day but never had the courage to tell you face to face; the words that he shoved down and placed in a tiny box in the back of his mind, ever-present but isolated. 

He sang for all of the times he was caught between telling you how much he cared about you and wanted to protect what you already had with each other.

He sang for you — to you. 

Oikawa’s voice wavered at the last line. He felt scared for what waited for him once the song finished but relieved at the same time like he had been holding his breath since he met you and this was his first taste of fresh air. 

The applause brought him out of the small world he had created for himself. “Thank you,” he said, quickly shoving the guitar back into the bag. 

He searched the café for you and was surprised to find that you were already looking at him. You were standing near the back of the crowd and your hands punched down into your jacket pockets. Your eyes were shiny and a look took over your face, happiness mixed with a tad bit of sadness and shock. 

A mutual feeling passed between the two of you. There was the knowledge that the song was about you and the question that he was most afraid of: Where do we go from here?

Oikawa walked towards you, focusing on your eyes as a guide. He was almost to you when he flinched at the sharp pain at his side. He walked into a chair. He gripped his side with his hand and stopped where he was. 

He heard you laugh and looked up. You were standing right in front of him. Your hand gently held his arm that gripped his side. “Are you okay?” 

“Please tell me if I messed up our relationship,” Oikawa blurted. He wasn’t planning on saying that, but now that he did, he wasn’t going to stop now. He gathered up all the bravery he could muster. “I’ve always had trouble trying to tell you that I’ve wanted to be more than just friends, that I wished and I hoped, but I’ve never done anything about it for the sake of our friendship.” 

“Tooru — ” you began. 

“Wait,” he said and took a step closer to you. “If I was the reason we stopped being friends, then I would never forgive myself. But then you told me you were going on a date and it hurt so much more than I thought it would. I want to be the one who makes you smile and laugh, to take you out on dates and hold your hand when you’re happy or sad. I want everything that comes with it.” 

You opened your mouth to say something, but Oikawa started speaking again before you could. He wanted it all out on the table. “And I have loved you before I even knew what love was—” 

You blinked back tears. “You love me?” 

“Yes, and going to tell you but then you told me you got asked out on a date and I thought it would be a shitty move to tell you how I felt. And you looked so happy and how could I get in the way of that? You’re my best friend.“ He paused and blinked as if he just realized what he said. “Did I say that I love you? That—

You brought your hand up to his cheek and brushed it lightly with the back of your fingers, lingering ever so briefly. Oikawa stopped, his mouth opened slightly. His eyes locked to yours. Gently, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and brought it closer to you until your lips met. 

Oikawa stood still for a moment and then leaned into the kiss, smiling. His hand went down to your waist and pulled you closer. 

Though it wasn’t a long kiss, when you parted, both of you were breathless. He rested his forehead against yours. 

“I love you too,” you whispered. “And I want all of that. I’m sorry for not telling you either. I was scared.” 

“So was I,” he said, and then let out a small laugh. “I guess we were both kind of…”

“Stupid?” you supplied. 

“Very,” he agreed.

After another second, you pulled back and said, “Damn it.” 

Oikawa’s eyes widened in alarm. “What is it?” 

“How am I supposed to top this birthday?” 

He let out a breath of relief and laughed. Oikawa had wanted for this moment for so long, he barely remembered that it was his birthday. He reached for your hand and interlocked your fingers. “As long as you're there, it doesn’t matter.”

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...I’ve been writing really long ones lately…which is both good and bad. Good because I love writing long fics and bad because they are time consuming and I write less requests. For those of you who are still waiting on your request, I’m really sorry. 
> 
> So, the school year is about to start again, and though I will try my best to write during the year, this one might be the last one for me until the next break… 
> 
> Fun Fact: I never had to tweak/edit more scenes in a one-shot than this one. What I first wrote didn't work, but then I just pushed through and finished it and then went back and changed a lot of things … like so many things ...
> 
> I hoped you enjoyed this one and, as always, thank you for reading - Kiwi


	53. Patient Growth - Yaku Morinosuke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU: Red String (the string on your finger points in the direction of your soulmate for about 4 inches of length before disappearing, only to make a full string connection when in each others range of sight)
> 
> Requested
> 
> Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, time-skip spoilers, short and sweet.
> 
> Word Count: 3k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“(Y/N), why are you doing math? We had it last semester.”

Pulling the protractor away from your pinky, you looked up to Micky’s face, watching as her eyebrow pushed upwards to her sleek hairline. You clicked your tongue, mouth open for a moment as you slid your notebook in her direction.

“Pythagorean theorem. Seriously, what are you doing?”

You raised both hands off your desk in surrender as you tilted your head away from the girl’s questioning stare. “Okay okay, hear me out.”

“That doesn’t exactly give me good faith.”

“So, the red string soulmate pair has mostly died off as of the late century or so right?”

Micky sighed, swinging her leg over the backrest of the chair in front of you, sitting backwards and she crossed her arms over your desk and leaned forward. “And?”

“ _ And,  _ because a lot of people have no need to know about tricks for the red string we were never taught. A lot of people have tattoos nowadays so I get it, don’t teach about every soulmate history, that’s fine.”

“Get on with it.”

“Okay, okay.” You spun your notebook around for Micky to see it straight on. “After some research, I discovered that people used to use the Pythagorean theorem to find the exact location of their soulmate using the angles of the string attached to their hand.”

“Okay cool, so why are you doing this instead of our English essay?”

Clenching your teeth, you looked away from Micky’s brown eyes to the tiled floor of your classroom. “Well, to be fair I have finished the essay.”

“We were assigned it yesterday.”

“I said it was finished, not good. But besides that. I’ve done five separate calculations, but the angles I’m getting don’t change at all, I’m getting a straight line. No triangle, no location.”

Furrowing her brow, Micky leaned back against the desk behind her, large fluffy hair tickling the back of another classmate’s neck, making them giggle. “Oops, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Mickey leaned back toward you, fingertips pulling at her ends. She sighed, “Have you considered that they might be so far away that 100 metres doesn’t give you enough clear information.”

Reaching for the thread that tied to your pinky, you spun it between your fingers, leaning back as you watched the string fade into invisibility mid-air. “I considered it, but that must mean they’re really far, and I didn’t want to admit that to myself.

“Well, hey. You’ll meet your soulmate eventually, everyone does. So for now, how about you focus on yourself and maybe clean up your essay.”

“Ya, ya you’re right.”

Micky sits for a moment, staring into empty space as your pen slowly lowers back down to the unfinished calculations on the paper. Sighing, she lifted her hand and placed it over yours, stopping the scribbling. “(Y/N), stop. You’re not ready to meet your soulmate if you’re searching for them.”

With a furrowed brow, you clicked the pen close and set in on the table. When you looked up to meet Micky’s eyes the yellow lights in the ceiling dimmed around your vision. “What do you mean by that.”

“Seriously (Y/N). if you spend all your time searching for your soulmate, what are you going to do when you finally meet them? Tell them about the length you went to, to hunt them down? Search for someone else?”

“Of course not—”

Your head shot forward slightly at the smack she landed on the back of it. “Then what?” you didn’t even seem to move. “What do you want to do in the future?”

Picking the pen back up you flipped it between your fingers, spinning it recklessly before it slipped between your digits as they slowly clammed up under the weight of her stare.

“Do you have any clue?” She looked at your notebook before grabbing it from beneath your arms and flipping over a few pages. Slamming it back onto the desk, the sight that met you was one of a completely cluttered page, filled to the brim with words and doodles. “What about this? Art. Writing. You love comics and stories. Why not—”

“It would never last. Starving artists, you know?”

“Get out of that damn mindset. That’s all a hoax, sure it happens, but art and story’s make culture colourful and interesting.”

You sighed, flipping the notebook closed as the beginning of the lunch bell rang. “You say that as if I’d have a giant impact on society.”

“Who says you wouldn’t?”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Russia’s snow was no joke. It made the shorter male shiver to the bone till he managed to get into the building’s lobby. Though, it did persist until he got a hand on the apartment’s doorknob.

Yaku peaked over his model friend’s shoulder, slowly shrugging off his long thick coat before walking back to the coat hangers at the entrance. “You read?” he asked, moving the red string on his finger as it wrapped around one of the hooks. 

Lev’s home, shared with his older sister, was a lived-in picture of modern architecture. The flat white walls and smooth stone countertops matched the square windows and minimalist paintings. The rent hardly put a dent in their wallets. Rich people. 

Despite the money available, no books shelves in the home were used for actual books, just plants and picture frames. This made the sight of Lev holding a bound stack of paper all the more outlandish. He kicked off his shoes, slinging on the available slippers.

“Huh oh, not often. But Alisa heard that this book blew up and was getting translated into a bunch of different languages, Russian and Japanese included. So we got both and we’re sort of jumping in between the versions for practice, you know? Oh, Alisa’s buying groceries, she’ll be back in time to watch the game though. How was practice?”

Yaku paced over to his friend's sleek kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with water. “Pretty good. I'm still getting used to the language, but I’ve gotten a better hang of it. What’s the book about?” The shorter man, two glasses in hand, walked over to his friend and offered one.

Lev gave Yaku a large smile and graciously took it, sipping for a moment before setting it on the coffee table. “It’s a mid-century fantasy, filled with magic, monsters, flying trains. No soulmates though, so you don’t know if the main character’s relationship is platonic or romantic. Not that it’s the main focus of the plot. And the Protagonist is this 18-year-old with no magic but somehow has to stop a magic war from happening between two rival empires. It’s really cool.”

Yaku sat in the opposite corner of the couch, chugging his glass back as he watched an animated movie play quietly on the screen in front of them. “Where’s the author from?” he asked, twirling the pinky tied red string around one of his fingers aimlessly.

“Europe? North-America? Don’t recall. But I did hear that they got scouted to work on an upcoming manga with a small group of authors. Apparently, they are great illustrators. Oh did they design the cover of their book? Ugh, let me check.” Lev reached for his phone on the counter as the door opened behind them. 

Alisa, long silver hair tied up into a neat bun, dropped the grocery bags and shook the snow off her head while kicking her coat off. “Lev,” she huffed. “I texted you to help me with the bags. Ah, Mori, you’re here. Good to see you.”

Yaku gave the older model a smile as Lev dropped his phone and rushed to pick up the brim filled bags of food. “Sorry, sorry. I was telling Mori about the books we bought.”

“Don’t worry I managed. Mori, I heard you made it onto the national team, does that mean we’re gonna have to fly into Japan to support you next year?”

Yaku laughed and waved his hand dismissively, “I won’t force you two. But I think the rest of Nekoma would like to see you again.”

Lev let out a loud snort from the kitchen, “We’re going! No doubt about it!” The tall man took a moment to poke his head out, “Oh, Yak— Alisa! You didn’t tell me!”

The childlike anger in his tone made Alisa laugh, turning around to look at her brother head-on. “Tell you what?”

“Your soulmate! Your tattoo is gold now!”

Yaku, from his position, could quickly confirm. The mandala-like flower on the back of Alisa’s neck had gone from a black to a golden shimmer.

Alisa scrambled, quickly pulling her phone close to her chest. With a swipe of her thumb, she brought the phone behind her and pushed and stray hairs up towards her silver bun. The camera clicked.

Yaku raised a thin blond brow. “Do you,” he paused, trying not to chuckle at his friend’s frantic scuffling. “Do you not know who it is?”

“Well, I can’t recall. Nothing was out of the ordinary today.” She tapped her booted toe against the mat before gasping suddenly. Removing the nail she was biting from her mouth, she grunted and pulled her coat back on. 

She began to ramble. “That damn cashier! I finally met him and she’s my soulmate? Stupid, stupid!” She stepped through the front door, turning around to give them a smile. “You boys enjoy the game, okay?”

The door closed with a dull thud and click. Lev, hands hanging like dead fish at sides, stood speechless. For a minute he stared at the closed door, not noticing Yaku’s eyes on him, before asking a sudden question.

“Do you want to meet your soulmate?”

“Hmm? Why do you ask?”

Lev stepped back into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of vegetables, silently beckoning Yaku to follow. Heeding, Yaku followed.

“Well, I don’t mean to sound negative or anything. I really want to meet my soulmate.” He trailed off.

Yaku sighed and grabbed his own item to help put it away in the fancy silver fridge. “Everyone has growing to do, and everyone grows at different paces.” He paused, stifling a sneer at Lev looking down at him with a bewildered gaze. He threw a pack of ships into his stomach. “If you never meet them, it was never meant to happen right? But soulmates are funny like that and always find their way to each other. You just got to be patient.”

Lev tossed the back onto a shelf, making the ships crunch daily when they landed. “Do you think you’ll meet your soulmate? Soon?”

“I’ve done a lot of growing, and I like how things are going. So ya, maybe.” Yaku looked back into the living room and to the book that sat in near perfect condition. “If it’s any constellation Lev, I think you’ve done a lot of growing too.”

He looked at the taller friend, immediately regretting his words slightly. Lev wore a cat-like grin. 

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“(L/N), we’re buying tickets to the Olympic games, do you want one?” Udai asked with an excited grin.

“Uh, hold on.” You pulled the glasses from off the top of your head and onto the bridge of your nose. Standing from your brightly lit desk, you walked over to stand behind one of your teammate’s shoulders to squint at their screen. “Volleyball? Oh, right you played didn’t you?”

The long-haired man laughed, making his chair creak as he leaned back. “So did Akaashi. We know some of the players on the team too.”

You sat up straight, brows shooting as close to your hairline as possible. “You know professional volleyball players?”

Udai let out an airy laugh. “Well Akaashi knows them better than I do, but ya.”

Akaashi, the silent editor that sat across the table, looked up at your bewildered face. “You’re a fan of volleyball?”

“Well, it’s not like I know the name of every player, coach, and team, but I enjoy watching sport in general. Udai, put me on the list.”

Walking back to your desk, you silently listened to your co-authors rattle on about the 3rd act of the story as you made clean lines and whether or not the main character should save the secondary one or not. Sighing, you looked at the black pen you held, before setting it down and gently tugging on your little red string. Akaashi rolled his chair over.

“I’m surprised you haven’t met your soulmate yet.”

“Are you? I’m only two years older than you Akaashi.”

“I suppose you’re right, most people just tend to meet their soulmates at the end of high school or into post-secondary. Typically if they’re in close proximity.”

“Well, I did try to figure out where my soulmate was. My friend convinced me to stop and focus on myself,” you sighed, staring at the papers in front of you. “I’m thankful for that, honestly. If I’m not ready to meet my soulmate, at least I have myself right? I’m happy.”

Akaashi’s head tilted, hair shifting under the fluorescent light as he stared at the small gold tattoo on his wrist with a smile. “Ya, you’re right.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

The stadium, inside and out, was loud. Stacks of hundreds of people slowly making their way around the building and milling about, their conversations made it difficult to communicate.

“So you don’t know how your soul mark works exactly?” Udai yelled into your ear.

“Not entirely. Everyone is different, you know? And not many people have the red string nowadays!”

“Ah, right! Makes sense.”

“Everyone, this way!” one of your co-authors called, as akaashi and another author came back, beers in hand.

Following your group, you made your way to the balcony seats to finally sit down instead of standing among tight groups of strangers. You cast a panoramic look over the circular-shaped stadium at the filled seats that hit the vibrant vinyl colours of the chairs.

“Eh! Akaashi! Is that you?”

Two rows ahead, standing tall, and eagerly running your way was a lanky silver-headed man with a big grin. Next to you, Akaashi stood up, and to be polite you stepped out of his way standing in the stairway to look up slightly at the stranger. 

“Ah Lev, been a while.”

Unable to get back to your seat, you stood between the two men patiently.

“You’re here to see everyone right? Oh, who’s this?” Lev asked, turning his head in your direction.

“(L/N), (Y/N). I’m one of Akaashi’s co-workers.”

The man’s thin silver brows pinched together, tilting his head as he inspected your face before suddenly shooting up onto his toes. “You wrote the Rusted Wing series! I love those books!”

“Ah, ya I did.”

“That’s amazing, I-”

A man’s voice called over the speakers, echoing through the stadium. Lev, in an excited rush, insisted on speaking to you later, before running back to his seat where another silver-haired person sat.

Sitting back down, you breathed slowly as the loud conversations around you died and the players made their way onto the court with an uproar of cheers. You smiled, chanting along until Akaashi nudged your arm.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Yaku, completely in his head about the quickly approaching game, kept his eyes on the red jersey in front of him as he walked forward. The music played loudly in his ears and mixed with the messy sound of cheers his head felt like it was floating in a cloud of complete focus on oblivion.

He stood in line, chest rising as he waited for the anthem to begin, but before they did an elbow hit his shoulder. 

Opening his eyes, he immediately caught sight of the once invisible red string making a complete line, arching its way up into the crowd where he saw your face above the strangers in the crowd.

Yaku was in a daze. Completely blown out of the water, all the thoughts in his mind seemed to escape him.

The game seemed to have started without his knowledge, and finished just as quickly. Muscle memory had done its job well. Yaku only noticed what had happened when his head was forced up to see the winning scores on a large screen.

“Fantastic work Yaku, and you didn’t even break a sweat! You were a monster out there! Absolute beast.” The head coach’s expression was one of amazement.

Yaku blinked dumbly. “If I’m being honest, I hardly remember a thing I did out there.”

“Well, you did fantastically. Conscious or not.”

When Yaku looked back to your seat, location freshly printed in his mind, you were gone. 

He followed the team back into the change rooms. Which happened to be when the rest began to point out the quickly moving direction of his thread. One compared its movements to a broken compass. 

Once able to get out of the musty changeroom, Yaku sprinted. The stadium halls were still packed with people. None paid attention to the short man sprinting though. The string had gone still and Yaku eagerly followed it like a trail of breadcrumbs. He knew his fate would be better than the two german siblings because at the end of the trail would be his soulmate and not some cannibalistic witch. He hoped.

The string suddenly shot forward, growing in length. He came to a halt, panting from his sprint; more than he did during the game.

Only a couple metres ahead, head meeting a higher point against Lev’s arm than his own, was his soulmate chatting happily in a circle while maintaining eye contact with his tall friend. The sight made his ears rumble and cheeks burn with embarrassment.

The content smile on your lips when you finally turned his way made all his patience worth it.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m getting better at using ‘They’ as a gender-neutral pronoun in writing without making it feel clunky, which I’m happy about.
> 
> I hope everyone has been having a nice holiday. - Bacon


	54. Tip Toe - Semi Eita

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU: Dancer (ballet) x Pianist + name on wrist
> 
> Requested
> 
> Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader though they are in a more female-dominated role, Fluff
> 
> Word Count: 2.3k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

His hands rested on your waist gently, guiding you in circles as your block covered toe dug into the vinyl matted floor. Your arms were raised in the air with your elbows and wrists bent slightly inwards to form an elegant oval frame around your head. The pointed toe at your knee lowered to the floor in a calculated motion. Point, ball, heel. Your knee bent to carry the rest of your transferring weight. Muscle memory set in quick.

The light twinkling of keys filled the air, guiding your moves like a trail of breadcrumbs. Up to point on the high note, drop on the downbeat, spin on the scale. The instrument’s strings vibrated in a happy tune that painted an image of blooming fields across your vision. You smiled, falling into your partner’s arms. You adored the feeling, like twirling in the air and sleeping on fluffy clouds with stars shining above you.

In the opposite corner from the grand piano, your instructor stood with his arms crossed, scrutinizing every dancer’s moves as the ensemble was practiced. He yapped out an order calling for one of the dancer’s heads to look up higher. The music continued.

Your partner’s hands shifted, one coming across your lower stomach, pushing heat through your bodysuit to sit against your sweat coated skin and the other catching your thigh as your leg raised higher into the air. The bent knee that held your weight pulsed before snapping straight, shooting you onto the end of your shoe in a tight arabesque.

You raised your arms, one ahead of you, fingers dancing carefully along your eye line and the other to your side, a little back. The man's hand left your stomach, shifting so he held your raised angle carefully. Toe first, he walked you in circles, spinning like a little fairy in a jewelry box.

After a 180-degree turn, he took your hand, slowly pulling you forward and out of your pose and into a waiting position.

The piano stopped.

"Water, everyone." 

Walking to the back wall of the studio, you ripped open the puckered opening of your flimsy bag. As you dropped the carrier and leaned against the banister that sat under the window, you tilted your head back to pour the iced water down your throat. Your head felt like it was floating, you sighed and sunk into the feeling.

“(L/N).” 

You coughed, choking slightly which prompted your dance partner to rub your back.

“Sorry, you good?” 

“You couldn’t have waited?” you forced out between coughs, the haze that had given you colourful illusions was gone. The dark floor and white light suddenly seemed a lot brighter. You winced, coughing some more.

Matteus, ever the awkward man he was, lowered his hand and offered you the towel that he pulled for your bag. You thanked him, dabbing your neck with the fresh material.

“You were a bit dazed there,” he said, turning to face the window next to you, sticking his pelvis backwards as he leaned on the wooden bar and stretched. “You danced well, as always, but dazed. Something on your mind?”

You bit your lip, closing the cap of your bottle. “I can hardly remember dancing. Honestly, like I knew it was happening but my mind was somewhere else. I think it was the music.” You turned your attention to the grand piano, where the ash-blond pianist sat, speaking with your instructor.

“Hmm? The music is a bit different than normal. I think it’s probably the new pianist they hired? Finally able to give old-man Monty a break.” 

Holding your wrist gently, you dragged the soft pad of your thumb over ink, making it burn under the heat of your hand. “Do you know his name?”

Matteus sat back in his heels before standing straight, catching your gaze as it zeroed in on the musician, unmoving even as the instructor walked to the centre of the room and called for everyone. “No clue.” He looped his arm through yours. 

You watched the loose threads at the tip of your shoe slowly unravel as you walked. Small pink strings slowly littered the black floor you stood on. Another pair? You looked to your fellow dancers’ shoes, noticing similar states of damage between them, nothing in comparison to yours though. Was it all the extra practice? Time to replace them.

Matteus, having actually paid attention to the words coming from your choreographer’s mouth, held your arm and pulled you to the side of the room. “Come on dreamer, time to practice.”

The sturdy dancer led you to the side of the room getting in the circular line, left hand holding yours as his right sat at your lower back. You watched the first pair of ensemble dancers began, running toe first into the center of the room as they waited for the music to begin.

The first key hit the piano. Your breath hitched, and without meaning to your head turned to the piano that was only a few metres away. Using Matteus’ hold to your advantage you leaned back, looking over the shoulders of your friends to catch a fleeting glimpse of the pianist at work.

His eyes were focused on the sheet of paper in front of him, never looking down at his fingers as they did their own dance. His whole body moved with a harder press on the keys and every note he played was visible in the floating of his arms. His grown out, shaggy hair (uncommon in the professional world, but intriguing nonetheless) swayed gently. You caught sight of his head moving upward, just about to get a good look at his face when Matteus gave you a good tug, pulling your attention back to the dance. He chuckled when your eyes went to his canvas slippers and nostrils flared.

You and your mirroring pair on the other side of the room pranced forward and once again you had become lost in the music. 

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Early mornings in the studio were your place. No one seemed fond of being in hours earlier than needed and the thought of staying late to practice instead of strengthening or stretching sent shivers up your spine.

Unluckily though, today, like every week or so, was shoe day for you. No early morning practice, no solo improv, just the irritating sounds of ripping fabric and sound smacks of hard materials making contact as you broke in your new pair of pointe shoes.

Raising the expensive shoe over your head, you brought it down to the dance floor with a loud bang.

“That’s a bit harsh, what did the shoe ever do to you?”

Your arms froze above your head at the sudden intrusion. When did the doors open? You looked over your shoulder. On the other side of the room, lit up by the natural light that poured through the window, was the new stranger with musical hands. His casual jacket sat on his shoulders snuggly, sleeves hanging down to his hands. The soft-looking material made a wall, blocking you and anyone else from seeing the name that was printed underneath.

You hitched a breath as his arms flicked out, pulling the offensive fabric higher, only to be met with the sight of one bear wrist and another covered by a slick pair of leather bracelets. You sighed and only realized your mouth was open when you closed it to gulp down any drool that was trying to escape your mouth.

“Sorry,” you pushed out, lowering your arms and reaching for your ribbons and threading needle. “I’m just getting my new shoes prepped.”

“Ah, I didn’t realize you had to replace them frequently,” he said, nonchalantly making his way toward the piano in the corner of the room. His fingers reached to pull out a few slips of paper from his shoulder strap bag. They fluttered as he shook them. “Do you mind if I practice? I was given new music last night.”

“Ah right, we’re starting the opening today. Go ahead, I won't stop you.”

He gave you a small smile before taking the last few steps to the stool, setting the sheets of paper on the available ledge. He played the first note, then the second, and before long he was sight-reading and easily making his way through the opening number at a steady pace.

You stuck your needle and thread through the fabric of your ribbon and marked portion of your ballet slipper. Listening to the music he played as you soaked in the warmth pouring in from the windows above you. You looked up when he spoke.

“You’re an amazing dancer by the way.” He kept his eyes on the sheet music, jaw clenched tightly as he tried to keep even a thread of focus tied to the paper and not all over your presence next to him. “I’m surprised you aren’t in one of the lead positions, ensemble seems too bleak for you.” His ash hair seemed to glow in the sunlight.

“Huh, oh thank you. I think your playing is mesmerizing. I hardly remember dancing yesterday, I was too immersed, ya know?” You tied off your last stitch and began slipping on your protective gear and pointe shoes

You kept your eyes on him, the bright sunlight made all the shadows in the room disappear into a void, leaving the particle-filled beams to give the man in front of you an ethereal stoplight. His eyes pinched slightly and he gave you a meek grin. “Can I ask you a question?”

You rose from your seat on the floor, stepping over to the side of the closed piano. Placing your fingertips on the edge of the instrument you began stretching, using the piano as a barre. “Only if I can ask one back.”

You watched as his fingers pushed against the keys. He — ignoring your legs moving beneath you — met your eyes. His brows raised in a shocked manner that made an endearing warmth grow in your chest. “How did you start dancing, it seems to come naturally to you?”

You brought your toe to your knee. “I was very hyperactive as a kid, so my mom enrolled me in dance. When they saw I was good but still very hyper, they moved me into a dance academy ‘cause the teachers were stricter.”

He laughed, shoulders bouncing as he bit his bottom lip. “Based on what I saw walking in, I guess it didn’t really work.”

You cheered, “You’re right! It didn’t! But I got super hooked on ballet and made them cough up a small fortune to pay for dance education.”

Resting your elbows on the piano lid, you sat back in your heels and flattened your back into a table, stretching the muscles behind your knees. You didn’t notice his wide eyes quickly shoot back to the paper in front of him. 

“So they made a dancing machine,” he spoke smoothly.

“If that machine had a tendency to twist their ankles, then yes,” you smiled up at his peripheral. He laughed. “Okay my turn, similar train, how did you get into music? More so, how did you end up here?”

“Well, in a similar fashion, my mom made me take piano lessons as a kid, but mostly because it’s a skill. I hated playing classical music at the time, but it’s grown on me now. In high school, I played volleyball, so the strong fingers definitely helped. And towards the end of that, I joined a band as their keyboardist.”

“A band?” You shifted positions, standing straight again. You moved on to a port de bras exercise, raising your arms into an oval shape before continuing. “Like a rock band?”

His hair swayed as he nodded and bit his lip. Caught up in both the conversation and memorized movements, you didn't notice his eyes follow your wrist.

“Okay, I have to know. How did you end up here?”

He laughed again, cheeks flushing at your enthusiasm and heart picking up pace. Not that you could tell. He continued, “well the band wasn’t going anywhere and I needed money. And my old piano teacher just so happened to have a few connections.”

The sun rose higher, and the conversation was never-ending until the door opened. Hand on the door, first in the room was Matteus, giving you a surprised look and waving you over as he mouthed off frantic words that you couldn’t make out. The music slowed to a deafening stop, leaving a dissatisfying chord to hang in the air that made your shoulders raise uncomfortably and nearly forced your knees to buckle. You raised a brow in the dancer’s direction, a bit aggravated at the group’s interruption.

You were unaware of the musician’s eyes trained on your profile as he shifted his hands to the beginning tonic chord. Unconsciously, you stood a little straighter, and the pianist smiled.

“He’s early,” Matteus whispered harshly.

Swallowing, you turned back to the black-tipped haired pianist, nervous smile painting your features. He wanted to reach out and soothe the frantic lines on your face, holding your cheek gently. “What’s your name?” you asked hurriedly. 

He laughed gently, and you swore the sun began to shine brighter. “Eita. Semi, Eita.”

You smiled as he reached out to hold your wrist delicately between his fingers. The name he hoped to hear rolled off your tongue in a hush.

You spent the rest of the day dancing in the sun.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to write longer fics like Catch Me If You Can, Pumpkin Spice, and Cross the Pacific, but I feel brain dead. I will at some point. I’m certain. But that point isn’t now. I hope you liked this fluff though. - Bacon


	55. Table for Two - Tsukishima Kei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Regular 
> 
> Requested (I changed it a tad...thank you for waiting)
> 
> Tags/ Warnings: FEM! Reader, mild unhealthy relationship, mentions of alcohol/drinking, mild swearing, angsty (?)
> 
> Word Count: 3.3k+

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

You distinctly remembered asking the waiter for a table for two. 

But you sat, unsurprisingly, at the dinner table by yourself. It  _ should _ have been surprising though, being stood up on your fourth anniversary with Tsukishima. 

The people around you glanced at you with faces full of pity. Especially the people who were nearing the end of their dinner and had gotten there after you. You were even at the point where you wanted to accept their pity — at least they seemed more interested in your relationship than Tsukishima did. 

You closed your eyes, trying to make the tightness in your chest go away. 

After a moment, you took out your phone again, hoping to see a message from him. There wasn’t one. You tapped on Tsukishima’s contact. Your fingers hovered over the call button. Would calling again make you seem clingy? You didn’t even want to check all the text messages you sent him. 

You shook your head and gritted your teeth.  _ He _ was the one who should have been here. It’s  _ his _ fault. You weren’t clingy or needy. You were an idiot for still being with him. 

“Excuse me,” the waiter said. You looked up and mustered the best smile you could even though you had a feeling you were going to be asked to leave. 

The waiter held up a plate. “This is on the house from those ladies over there.” He gestured over to the bar where two women sat. They were in deep conversation, whispering to each other. 

You weren’t one to pass on free food, but still, you had to ask, “Are you sure?” 

He nodded and placed the plate in front of you. “Enjoy.” 

“Thank you.” 

You ate happily by yourself. You ordered all of the food you wanted and a fancy drink —that was way overpriced— but you didn’t care. You made your own money, and you were going to spend it. 

Halfway through the desert and five fancy drinks later, which you were starting to think had some form of alcohol in it, you pulled out your phone again. You took another bite of the sweet treat and held the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?”

“Yamaguchi?” 

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said. “How was dinner?” 

“Well, dinner was great. The food was amazing and I think I ate so much I could go into hibernation.” 

“You sound happy,” he said. You could hear his smile through the phone. “And not that I don’t like talking to you, but why are you calling? Aren’t you out with Tsukki? It’s your anniversary isn’t it?” 

You laughed mirthlessly. “You remembered! A gold star for Yams!” 

He paused. “(Y/N)? Are you okay? Do you mean that—” 

“Yeah,” you cut him off, “you remembered my anniversary. I remembered my anniversary. But the other half of my relationship didn’t. Or he did and just didn’t care.” 

“(Y/N)—” 

“And this drink I’ve been drinking,” you continued, “it’s heavenly. Maybe I should get another one.” 

“How long have you been there?” 

“Two hours? Three hours? Maybe more? Should my time waiting count? I don’t think I should, otherwise that would just be sad.” 

He sighed.

“Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t do what?” His voice softened. 

“Pity me. Everyone at this restaurant is pitying me— the waiter, the hostess, those two girls who sent me food; I can see it in their eyes when they look over at me.” You closed your eyes and choked down a sob. “I don’t want to be looked at like that. Anniversaries are supposed to be happy…” You trailed off. “But this isn’t why I called you. Can you pick me up? I don’t think I should drive.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t. I have another class in 10 minutes. I hate night classes. I could send someone to pick you up though. Someone you know.”

“Sure. Why not? What have I got to lose?”

“(Y/N)... Just stay there okay? I’ll pick you up in the morning and we’ll go back to the restaurant to get your car.” 

“Thank you, Yamaguchi. You’re a great friend. I should have more friends like you.” 

He chuckled. “Thank you, (Y/N). You can repay me with your biology notes.” 

“Done,” you said, nodding your head. “And, Yams, before you go...” 

“Yeah?” 

“I think—I think I want to break up with Tsukishima.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

_ “You’re going to do great,” Tsukishima said. He kissed you on the forehead and brushed back a loose strand of your hair.  _

_ You frowned. “But what if I don’t get the job? What if I mess up? What if they ask me why I want the job and I start telling them the plot of (favourite show) out of nervousness?”  _

_ His lips tugged into a smile. “Then they’ll have a new show to watch.”  _

_ “Tsukki,” you groaned.  _

_ He sighed. “If you don’t get this one, then you’ll get the next one. Either way, I’ll be right next to you each step of the way.”  _

“Each step of the way,” you muttered. You had believed him then, but now, you couldn’t differentiate his truths from lies even if you were sober. 

Where did it all go wrong? 

You had paid the check already, but the waiter let you sit at your table until the person who was picking you up came. You felt like you had a special bond with the waiter. It wasn’t like he got to see something like this every night. You hoped you were at least a little entertaining to him. Maybe you should take this act out on the road. 

A soft hand landed on your shoulder. You turned and were met with a familiar head of bright orange hair; the one from your childhood and only separated from you after high school. 

“Hey Shoyo,” you smiled. “I thought you were in a different country…You were right? I can’t really remember right now. Did Yamaguchi call you? You came here really fast.” 

Hinata returned your smile with a gentle one of his own and let out a small laugh. “Hey (Y/N). And I was. I came back to visit my family for a bit. Let’s go. I’ll bring you home.” 

He helped you out of your chair and guided you to the door. You were a little taller than him, but he held you strongly, unwavering from his steps even though you leaned most of your weight on him. You couldn’t tell if you were doing that because of the alcohol or the fact that you felt so shitty, you couldn’t bring yourself to take the full weight of the walk. 

“He filled me in a little too,” he continued. “Tsukishima’s an asshole.” 

A sad smile made its way to your lips. “He wasn’t always one. I remember that much.”

Hinata glanced over at you but didn’t say anything. 

Once you were buckled into the passenger side of the car, Hinata circled the vehicle and sat in the driver’s seat. He shoved the key into the ignition and turned it. You reached out and grabbed his hand that was on the gear shift. 

“Please don’t take me home,” you whispered. You blinked back the tears that were threatened to come up. You hadn’t cried all evening and you didn’t want to start now. “I don’t want to go home. I live with Tsukki and I don’t want to see him.” 

He hesitated. “Are you sure?” 

You nodded and released your grip on his wrist. 

Hinata drummed on the steering wheel for a moment. “I’ll take you to my house. Is that okay? My sister is sleeping at her friend’s house, but my parents are there. They are probably sleeping now though.” 

You nodded again. “Thank you.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Yamaguchi waited anxiously outside of Tsukishima and your apartment. His class ended a bit earlier than usual and he wanted to see how you were doing. Your conversation had jarred him a bit. He never heard you sound so uncertainly sad about your relationship with Tsukishima. 

He was there when you two got together and whenever you spoke to him about your relationship, it had always been good things. Lately, though, you spent less time talking about Tsukishima and more about random topics going on. 

Yamaguchi thought it was strange, but didn’t say anything. However, today solidified what he was thinking.

Hinata had texted him earlier that you were at his house, not wanting to come back to the apartment, and he knew that Tsukishima —besides the dinner he missed— wasn’t doing anything tonight. 

“Tsukishima!” Yamaguchi yelled, banging on the front door. “Open the door! I know you’re in there.” 

He heard the rustle of footsteps behind the door and after a few moments, it opened. Tsukishima wore lounge clothes and his eyes were tired behind his askew glasses. His hair was messy and wet. “Need something?” 

“What have you been doing?” 

Tsukishima shrugged. “I just got back from volleyball practice and I took a shower. My phone died a bit though, so if you called beforehand, I didn’t get it. I’ve been waiting for (Y/N) to come back.” 

Yamaguchi bit the inside of his cheek, his hands balling into fists. “ _ You’ve _ been waiting for (Y/N)? Do you know what day it is, Tsukishima?” 

Tsukishima opened his mouth to say something and then hesitated, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“It’s your anniversary with (Y/N),” Yamaguchi answered, his voice cold. “And I only know because she has been talking about it for days, Tsukishima,  _ days _ . How could you forget?” 

Tsukishima closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath as if he was in pain. He muttered something under his breath that Yamaguchi couldn’t make out. “Do you know where she is? Is she still— is she still at the restaurant?” 

Yamaguchi blinked. “No, she called me to pick her up because she was drinking a bit. I couldn’t, but I sent Hinata to. She’s probably at his house now.” 

Tsukishima ran back into the apartment. When he came back to the door, he reached over to the table beside him and fumbled for his keys. He grabbed a pair of shoes, stepped through the door, and closed it behind him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

Tsukishima glanced up. “I’m going over to Hinata’s. I’ll talk to you later, Yamaguchi.” He started towards his car. 

Yamaguchi froze for a moment and then ran after him. He caught up to Tsukishima just as he got to his car. “Wait! Tsukki!” 

“I really need to go,” Tsukishima said, unlocking the car door. 

“(Y/N)” —Tsukishima angled his head at him at the sound of your name— “she said that she wanted to break up with you when I called her.” 

Tsukishima’s grip on the door handle tightened. “Thank you for not leaving her alone.” 

Yamaguchi took a step back from the door and let him speed off into the dark street. He hoped that the shadows wouldn’t catch up with Tsukishima as he made his way to (Y/N). 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Hinata looked at you carefully. After your exchange in the car, you hadn’t said a word. He wasn’t used to not hearing you talk. You were always the first to ask him about his day when you were in high school, and even now, whenever the two of you got a chance to talk to each other, you’d talk for hours. 

His parents were sleeping by the time the both of you reached his house. Hinata set you both up in his room. He had laid out the extra bed for you— the one that you would always use when you slept over— and pushed it beside his. You had gone to the bathroom to take a shower and once you finished, you sat beside him quietly as he took out his laptop and pulled up a streaming site. The opening credits of your comfort movie started. 

Halfway through the opening scene, you turned to face him. Hinata wasn’t even watching the movie; he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. 

You bumped your shoulder against his. “I’m okay. You can stop watching me.” 

He tore his gaze away from you and back to the screen. “It doesn’t seem like it. Yamaguchi sounded really worried when he called me.”

“Yamaguchi is worried about most things.” 

Hinata shrugged. “It was different this time.” He snuck another glance at you. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You scoffed. “Would you want to hear it?” 

“If it would help you, then yes.” 

You paused and watched the movie for a bit. After a moment, you reached out and paused the movie. You leaned back into the wall. 

Hinata turned his attention towards you. “(Y/N)?” 

“Normally, when he would miss out dates, he’d call or text me and I would go home.” You swallowed. “I didn’t mind because sometimes you just have to do things whether you wanted to or not and those dates would just clash with each other. Then I started planning them when he would have nothing, but I only got nothing in return. I spent so many nights at home alone, I was as good as single.” 

Your eyes burned. Your throat felt like it was going to close off at any moment. Hinata put his hand over yours, but you couldn’t meet his stare. Your voice wavered as you said, “I didn’t think he’d miss this one.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He gripped your hand tighter. “You don’t deserve that.” 

You wiped the back of your hand against your cheek. You played the movie again and rested your head on Hinata’s shoulder. 

“I know.” 

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Tsukishima sat in his car outside of Hinata’s house. 

He held his phone tightly in his hand. He had been sitting there for the worse of ten minutes, scrolling through all the text messages that you had sent him that he missed. 

He was the worst person in the world. How could he forget his anniversary with you? He even remembered you telling him throughout the week all the details.

_ Life was catching up to him _ , Tsukishima thought,  _ but his life also included you. _

There were no excuses. All that he could do now was apologize and see if it would be enough. 

_ She said she wanted to break up with you.  _

He didn’t think it would. 

Tsukishima opened the car door. Slowly, he walked up to the front door. He raised his hand to ring the doorbell, but the door swung open before he could. 

Tsukishima blinked. “Hi.” 

Hinata nodded in acknowledgement. Though Tsukishima still towered over Hinata, he seemed more intimidating than Tsukishima remembered. Hinata’s eyes were set in a bored glare, like his time was better spent doing something else. 

“Did you know I was outside?” 

“I saw you through my window,” Hinata said. “I waited until you walked up to the door though. I don’t want you to wake up my parents by ringing the doorbell.” 

“Sorry,” Tsukishima mumbled. 

Hinata crossed his arms. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” 

“Can I— can I see her?” 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Hinata clicked his tongue. “At least not now.” 

“Hinata—” 

“She’s sleeping,” Hinata interrupted. His voice was cold and quick. “You really hurt her, Tsukishima. And it’s not up to me whether or not (Y/N) forgives you, that’s up to her. But, right now, she’s in my house; she’s tired and sad, and you can’t see her.” 

Tsukishima sighed and brought up a hand to rub his eyes. “Fine. Just tell her to come back home okay?” 

“I will.” 

Hinata took a step back and began to close the door. 

Tsukishima raised a hand to the door, stopping it just before it closed. Hinata’s eyebrows shot up and loosened his grip on the door. 

“Need something else?” 

“Put a lot of blankets on her.” 

“What?” 

Tsukishima swallowed and looked down. “(Y/N). She likes having a lot of blankets on her when she’s sad. She says it feels like a hug.” 

Hinata nodded and shut the door.

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

Your legs felt like lead as you walked up the steps to your apartment. 

After you woke up, Hinata’s parents made you breakfast and offered to let you stay as long as you liked. Even though you really wanted to, you were never someone to run away from your problems. It just sucked when the problem was with the person who was supposed to be your salvation. 

Yamaguchi had picked you up at Hinata’s house to drive you back to the restaurant where you had left your car. Both Yamaguchi and Hinata accompanied you there and wouldn’t leave until you reassured them that you were going to be okay no matter what the outcome was when you got home. 

Even if you left your apartment again that day with or without a relationship, you’d still have people who would care about you and that was enough. 

You twisted your key and opened the door. 

Tsukishima was sleeping on the couch, his head propped up on his hand and he was covered underneath a pile of blankets. 

You kicked off your shoes and walked over to him. 

“Kei,” you said, shaking his shoulders. “Wake up.” 

He jumped slightly as his eyes blinked open. The moment he caught your eyes, he threw the blankets off him and stood up. 

“Hi.” 

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

Tsukishima glanced behind him to where the door of your bedroom was. “It felt empty.” 

You bit your tongue. “At least you know how it feels.” 

He flinched and took a step away from you. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” 

“For what?” 

“For everything,” he said. Tsukishima raised his head to look at you. “For cancelling our dates, for missing our anniversary. For everything.” 

You raised your eyebrows dully. “One apology for months of treating me like crap? Do you even have a reason for flaking out on me? Is it even a good one?” 

“I was at volleyball practise.” 

A ball of rage filled your chest. “You were at volleyball practice every time you missed a date. You were practising a sport while I sat alone at a table for hours waiting for you yesterday. Is that what you’re telling me?” 

Tsukishima didn’t say anything. 

You closed your eyes. “Am I always going to come second to that? Cause if I am then. . .” You broke off, shaking your head. 

“You’re not,” he said. Tsukishima was breathing hard like he had been running. “You won’t ever be again. Please, (Y/N). Believe me.” 

You wanted to, you really did. But how long would it be until you would have this conversation again? Argue about the same things over and over again. You didn’t know if you’d be able to take it. As much as you hated feeling the way you did, knowing that you deserved better, you deserved what you wanted too. And you wanted Tsukishima. 

Would it be enough?

•──────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I managed to squeeze some time in to write this one cause it was requested a while ago (really sorry about that). School sucks. Lots of work. The usual stuff. 
> 
> Hopefully you liked this one. I left the ending open because it was really hard for me to think of an ending for this...I know that sounds kind of bad, but there are a lot of ways this story could go. (Y/N) could choose to break up with them or not, but I kind of want to leave that up to you to decide because everyone has different feelings and experiences to this type of thing. 
> 
> I’ve never been in a relationship, so I wouldn’t really know. But I think that I would break it off… what would you do? 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading - Kiwi 
> 
> P.S. If I’m lucky and have enough time, the third part of the Language of Flowers is coming soon. It’s a long one. (If any of you are interested in that)


	56. Coffee Diet - Kozume Kenma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Tokyo Ghoul 
> 
> Requested
> 
> Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, Gore, some angst (Though both aren’t too heavy or graphic I think), probably a poor representation of the manga/anime cause I haven’t actually read/watched it all the way through despite wanting to
> 
> Word Count: 3.3k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Kozume grunted. His kagune, the source of his inhuman power, made strikes at his cannibal attacker, forming a bone-like needle that stabbed down at the unknown ghoul. The concrete shattered like thick glass upon impact as the ghoul continued to dodge. 

Tokyo (especially its many outskirt neighbourhoods) had a ghoul problem. 

“You’re in the wrong territory if you think you can get away with that.”

The other ghoul only laughed, continuing his fast steps. The laugh itself was painful, scratchy and high pitched. It made Kozume wince.

The people of Kozume’s neighbourhood knew of the danger that lay waiting outside their doors, and thus an unspoken rule had been made among them. Don’t be outside past sunset. Those that did take a nightly venture typically were found mangled and half-eaten by morning. Broken bones peaking through bloodstained flesh, large bites taken out of their thighs, and torsos ripped open; delectable looking meal for a ghoul gone rouge. Kenma wouldn’t agree.

The dark alley that the ghoul had run into was walled off.

His opponent's black greasy hair hung over most of his face like a curtain, only letting a single black and red eye, and a sharp-toothed smirk poke through the strands. His hair swayed as he spun around.

“What does territory matter if there’s food to be had?” The ghoul screeched before his powered ghoul organ seeped out of his body and shot toward Kozume. It scratched his cheekbone, barely missing his eye, thankfully, but would take time to heal unlike any normal would.

Kozume hissed at the cut, willing his own kagune to slash at the ghoul who began climbing up the sides of the brick walls. The sharpened bone just missed the man’s food as he scurried over the ledge.

“See you later!”

The false blond stood there, yawning and rubbing his black and red eyes that were pinned to the building’s top. Heat from the rising sun began to warm his back. With the new light and extra heat, the tired ghoul raised his arms, stretching, as he took in his familiar surroundings. The port, or at least near it. Kozume stepped out of the alley to see the broken concrete that was left in his chase.

Another yawn escaped him before he tucked his hand in his red sweater’s pockets and walked the other way. He needed coffee.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Kuroo’s shop, as lovely of an atmosphere as it created, was in the middle of a garbage dump. It didn’t help that some of that outside aesthetic carried into the cafe itself. The bell pierced into Kozume’s ear canal as he opened the front door to the dingy sight. Stained counters, chipped porcelain, yellow lights that were so off-putting that they stayed off all the time. It’s always been dark and gloomy, until today.

“Welcome! Take a seat, I’ll be right with you.”

That’s new.

Kozume stood in the doorway, watching your form dance and sway behind the bar. He noticed the music playing, soft and completely unnatural for the cafe. Your uniform, definitely not assigned by Kuroo, was crisp and clean, black shirt sitting on your form nicely. It was modest and professional. Maybe not assigned, but definitely Kuroo’s style.

He watched as you placed a small cake at another regular’s table, patting the old man’s signature plaid jacket on the shoulder. Whatever you said made the man laugh and twirl his fork happily.

His golden eyes, now settled after his too-early walk from the destroyed park, were trained on you as he sidestepped over to his usual seat in the corner next to the window. He sat, and took his eyes off your bobbing head as you turned around. His brow furrowed. The table was clean. Kozume looked around the cafe, noticing the lack of dust and stains.

He didn’t see you drop off a cup of coffee at a table, or walk his way until you were right in front of him.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

He jumped in his seat, causing his bobbed hair to billow out for a moment. Oh no, the look in your eyes immediately told him that you could see his rosy cheeks. He coughed. “Black coffee, please.”

Your smile was perfect.

“Hey, Kenma!” An unlikely saviour with black spikey hair appeared from the doorway. Kuroo strode over and waved you down as he slid into the seat across from Kozume. “Ah you got a scratch,” he hissed, immediately putting pieces together in his head. His head turned your way. “Do you mind getting me a coffee too, (L/N)?”

Kozume’s eyes followed you as you placed your pen and notepad back into your pocket and walked toward the counter.

“(L/N)’s new, just started yesterday and all the regulars love the new energy already. So tell me, what happened?”

Kozume sighed, looking down at his hands. “More keep coming. One disappears and another shows up. I’m too tired for this.”

Despite his vague tone, Kuroo knew what Kozume was talking about and sighed immediately. He leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be able to help you out soon enough, (L/N) has gotten a good hand on things, but I don’t want to leave them alone in the shop too suddenly. You understand.”

Kozume did understand. You, the human behind the counter, were a breath of fresh air in the musty town. You didn’t know, you couldn’t have. The demeanour of someone in the know in this neighbourhood wasn’t that positive. He knew that he wouldn’t get any help until you knew of the cafe’s main purpose.

“Take your time, I can handle it for how.” Kozume yawned and gestured to his marred cheek. “This guy might be a pain to deal with though.”

Just as he finished speaking the TV that hung above his head began to rattle on about destruction occurring at their neighbourhood’s port.

Kuroo winced. “That’s a pain, all right.”

Two white cups of black coffee hit the table's surface. Kuroo thanked you as you stood straight and reached into your apron’s pocket. Next to Kozume’s mug, you placed a large band-aid as you ripped open a disinfectant wipe. “May I?” 

He nodded and let your fingers gently turn his chin in your direction. The wipe glided smoothly over his cheek but stung. He hissed and pulled his head back.

“Sorry, it’ll be over in a second, I’ll be quick. Can I finish?”

Kuroo stayed silent as he watched Kozume get cared for by his employee, only speaking when the barista left the younger ghoul’s side with a kind smile. “You’re blushing.”

“I will kick your ass,” Kozume sneered before lifting his mug up to his lips for a quick sip. “Why’d you hire a human anyway?”

Kuroo mirrored his friend’s actions and drank some of his well-brewed coffee. “They don’t hold any ill will toward Ghouls if that’s what you’re wondering, maybe a bit scared. But (L/N) is very kind.”

Kosume continued to yawn through their conversation, occasionally looking your way, only to immediately turn his head as soon as there was a chance of you catching his stare. He didn’t realize how long it went on until he heard your footsteps heading for the exit.

Kuroo twisted, resting his arm over the back of the chair to face you putting on your coat. “Walk home safe!”

“Will do!” Your smile glittered before you pushed the door open and walked through.

Kozume’s eyes continued to follow you through the glass until you turned out of sight. 

“Do they live far from here?” he asked Kuroo, questioning his warning.

Kuroo slapped his hand on the table twice, gathering the energy to rise to his feet. He grabbed the long since empty mugs, whose stray coffee had begun to dry on the sides. “Only a 5-minute walk. But (L/N) has to walk through alleyways to save time, and well, even during the day, you can’t be too concerned for one’s safety.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Ah, Kozume! Black coffee again? Would you like some food with that?”

Kozume’s stomach churned at the thought of putting something other than coffee into his system. “I’m alright, just the coffee is fine. Thanks.” Hands stuffed in his pockets, he walked to his corner. “And Kenma is fine.”

“Then, please, call me (Y/N).”

The cafe smelled cleaner than the weeks prior. Cleaning solution seems to sit right under Kozume’s nose and punch him every time he breathed. Taking his seat, he immediately noticed the lack of smudges on the window.

Kozume tried to give you a kind smile as you set his cup of coffee on the freshly cleaned table. He could feel heat crawl up his neck and settle underneath the skin of his cheeks. He gulped, readying himself to separate his lips and speak.

“You seem drained, has work been alright?” You beat him to the punch.

“Ah ya, work.” He didn’t have a job. “It’s been alright, just a bit draining because of the night shift. How has school been?”

Kuroo was quick to get you both well acquainted after your first meeting. He carried conversations until Kozume was willing enough to speak for himself. The blond was thankful for that, knowing that if he had been left alone by your side no familiarity would have been built.

“Oh, the usual. I have a few assignments to finish but nothing too overbearing. I did read an interesting article about social relations and hierarchy of ghouls in society. It was a bit depressing but educational.”

Kozume choked on his coffee, hunching over the table as he lifted a fist to his mouth. Just as the ragged coughs began to subside he felt your hand gently rub his back, sending him into another fit of coughs.

“What’s the assignment about?” he asked, settling down.

He noticed the concerned look on your face as you pulled napkins out of your pocket and set them on the table. “Ah well, I’m studying public health and humanities, and my prof told us to choose a disadvantaged group to write about. Yada yada, so on so forth. I chose ghouls.”

He gestured for you to sit with one hand, waving at Kuroo with the other as he wiped down the main counter. You smiled and took the seat across from him.

“You believe ghouls are disadvantaged?”

Your brow furrowed, pondering. “Well ya, in some ways. Maybe not in strength and power, but ghouls are rather hated in society don’t you think?”

Once again, while preparing to speak, he was cut off by the overhead TV switching audio. Listening to the graphic words coming out of the reporter's mouth, Kozume sighed and raised a hand to push against his temple.

The distressed look on your face made him pause. A pit grew in his stomach as your concerned face turned to Kuroo, who was calling you back to your station. You were quick to bring back your smile. “Enjoy the coffee, and rest when you can.”

Kozume returned your smile meekly but was focused on the grotesque details the reporter listed, unable to stop himself from imagining you, defenceless, in that sort of danger. He couldn’t stomach the coffee.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“(Y/N), I really don’t think I should leave you here alone after dark.”

You sighed, looking to your boss with an unimpressed smirk. Kuroo squinted, lips pursing as he watched your knowing smirk turn humorous. 

“Testu, don’t you have  _ work _ to do at night? My walk home may be a lot safer, if you get to that, no?”

Kuroo cursed, punching the wooden counter with a dull bumping sound. He groaned. “How did you know?”

You laughed, shifting the position of your hands on the wooden poll and continuing to sweep the floor of the empty cafe. “I study! It may not be so obvious but don’t you think I’d pick up on you being a ghoul after a few weeks?”

“I mean maybe, but I was hoping you didn’t know!”

A light scoff shot off your tongue and through your teeth. “I would think you’d be relieved, now you don’t have to be so cautious around me.”

Kuroo picked up the washcloth he had been holding earlier off the counter and began to wipe the wooden surface down again. “No harm in caution. Even if you do know.”

“Ya, ya, just don’t show me a severed limb. I can’t do gore.”

Kuroo laughed and tossed the damp towel onto the edge of the metal sink. His arms shifted to his back to aunty the black apron around his waist. “Are you sure you’re okay here alone?”

The TV’s sound changed to the news’ intro tune as you grabbed the remote and turned it off. You gave the ghoul a warm smile. “I can handle it. Go go.”

The sun was already over the horizon by the time you were ready to leave. You stood on the inside of the door, punching in the pin code to the security lock. It beeped, giving you the warning to leave and lock the door. Once done, you pulled your sweater a little tighter on your shoulders and shoved your hands in the pockets.

You focused on the sound of your rubber souls stepping on the concrete and the occasional tick of a pebble getting kicked. Street lights flickered, or at least the ones that were working did. Walking upon a burnt out light, you took the marker to turn down the neighbouring alleyway.

Two steps in was all it took before you lifted the collar of your weather over your nose. The putrid smell wafted your way from the dumpster. “Ugh, it’s not garbage day tomorrow is it?” Setting closer towards the opposite wall, you help your breath and face forward. Until the burnt-out light flickered on.

You halted, head frozen forward as you looked out of the corner of your eye. Immediately your stomach churned and your throat began to pulse uncomfortably. 

First, you noticed the pool of dark red blood that was slowly growing, nearing your shoes. Then it was pieces of loose skin and grey hair, stained as they floated in their puddle. Your heart seized at the sight of a ragged plaid jacket that was recklessly torn. You searched higher.

A single red iris surrounded by a black gloss stared at your profile. The rest was obscured by pin-straight greasy hair except for a large, inhuman smirk that showed off shark-like teeth covered in blood.

You cautiously removed your hands from your pockets, watching the poorly dressed skeletal like figure’s hunch move up and down as he breathed.

One beat.

You saw his claw-like fingers hold the wrinkly hand of the severed arm like a possessed lover. Your foot shifted.

Two beats.

The ghoul’s head tilted, revealing a tube-like pound of pink flesh hanging from his fangs. You gulped.

Three beats.

You ran.

Pulse already off the hertz, you sprinted with all your might to the flickering light at the other end of the alley. A stupid move, but taking the time to turn around wasn’t an option. Each step sent a jolt into your stomach. Your footsteps were much louder than before, but your blood was drowning it out. The lamp was so much slower now.

You froze suddenly. Stopped by a tug on your arm. Vertigo suddenly hit and the lamp was pulled further away. Then you recalled the tug, and noticed the increased pulsing in your arm, then felt your sweater become sticky and heavy. You looked to the side and down.

Were bones supposed to stick out like that?

You hardly registered it’s presence before the spike-like bone was torn from your limb, sending you into another fit of screams.

The light at the end of the alley flickered again, before going completely dark. 

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

His heart raced, blood pumping through his ears like crazy.

“Calm down Kenma! You can’t go crazy like this!”

“I have every right! You heard that scream, didn’t you? It was (Y/N)!”

The blonde’s kagune went wild, thrashing about and nearly knocking Kuroo over in the process. Said ghoul didn’t flinch, only brushing away the agitated organ with a push of his own.

“I know, but you have to—”

He was off, launching into the air and onto the rooftops, following the smell of your spilt blood before Kuroo could finish his sentence. The black-haired man swore, quickly following suit.

The sight was expected, horrifying, but not surprising.

Whoever’s intestines were falling out of the ghoul’s mouth, Kozume couldn’t tell, but he wasn’t gonna let the ghoul he had been hunting get another chance to make a meal out of your body if he could help it.

“GET OFF!”

Something cracked as the long-haired ghoul’s body flew off yours, smashing against the brick wall of the alley. Kozumes sharp-pointed kagune pinned him through the stomach to the cracking brick. 

He only gave you a glance. The sight made his stomach churn as if he were trying to eat a regular meal. Torn skin, visible bone, and blood everywhere. He wanted to vomit.

Behind him he could hear Kuroo’s feet land in the massive pool of blood, making it splash slightly. Their clothes would have to be trashed later.

Kozume gritted his teeth. Despite his boiling rage at you being injured, he managed to hold off his brutal assault against the bloodied ghoul until he heard Kuroo zip away with you in his arms. 

Even in your current state, you’d be safer away from the scene.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“I don’t think (Y/N) is going to be able to work for a while.”

“Some of the regulars are spooked, but relieved.”

Whatever was holding your arm like a boa constrictor was making sleep really hard. You groaned. Why did your stomach hurt?

“Ah, look who’s up.” Kuroo’s voice was as teasing as always.

Your sight was blurry when you finally came to. The first thing you noticed was the aggressive pulsing in your arm and stomach followed by a warm hand on your shoulder. You tried to shift.

“Ah stupid, don’t do that.” Kozume’s voice, despite a slight rasp, was as gentle as ever.

You sighed and squinted towards Kuroo who stood at the end of — what you were quick to realize— was your hospital bed. His arms were crossed and the smirk he wore was humorous. “Kuroo, if you say a single word, I will gladly risk further injury to fight you.”

Kenma shut his eyes and rubbed your shoulder before reaching for a hot mug from your bedside table. Kuroo walked around to the opposite side to help you sit up. You watch a thick red sweater fall off your shoulders and onto your lap, in front of your bandaged stomach.

Kenma spoke quietly, “Your sweater was torn to pieces.”

“Like my body?” you joked, only to get a sour look from the man in return. “Sorry.”

He sighed again and handed you the steaming mug. “Here, drink this. You need food.”

Kuroo walked back to the end of the bed, letting Kozume take care of you from then on.

“Coffee is considered a food now?”

Kuroo let out a short chuckle, making you tilt your brow in his direction. Kozume coughed, placing the mug down quickly to lift his red sweater off of your lap. He draped it back onto your chest, tucking it between your shoulders and pillow, then slowly guiding your arms through the sleeves. 

You rubbed your hands together for warmth as Kozume offered you the hot mug again. You took it, thanking him with a shining smile. You once again failed to notice the rosiness of his cheeks, even if Kuroo didn’t.

“You won’t be able to stomach anything else, sorry.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did this take me so long to write…. Oh well. -Bacon


	57. Green or Gold - Sakusa Kiyoomi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Royal + Butler
> 
> Requested (I had a Butler Sakusa idea in my head so I'm happy that he was requested)
> 
> Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader,
> 
> Word Count: 13.1k+

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Drat, where is that child? (Y/N)! Your parents request your presence! (Y/N)!”

The poor butler ran around the palace gardens, desperately searching for the young royal through the shrubbery. His white gloves tore as they got caught on the thorns of rose bushes. He sneezed as the pollen got in his nose, mentally cursing the active 4, going on 5, year-old for making him run around without his mask.

_ “Snip.” _

The butler’s dark curls bounced as he looked up. His son, age 7, carried a single-handed clipper in his two hands and chopped off the odd twig and branch that stuck out of the rose bush’s neat shape. The young boy kept his eyes on the pants, meticulously trimming as he sniffed underneath his mask.

The butler, Daiki, sighed. “Kiyoomi, have you seen the young royal?”

The boy paused for a moment, eyes shifting to the side before shaking his head silently. The older man whined.

“That rascal. The king will very well take my head if I don’t find his kid soon.”

The small Sakusa giggled quietly into his mask. His father leaned down to peck his head before standing straight and flicking the sleeves of his suit jacket and running off. Beckoning calls for the young royal followed him.

A small rustle was heard overhead, causing Kiyoomi to look up at the pink petals of the garden’s only cherry blossom tree. Within the bloom, a pair of small legs swung in time to airy giggles.

“Your Highness, you shouldn’t be hiding from the king.”

Your voice chirped like the birds that hopped cautiously around you. “I’m not hiding!” Kiyoomi tilted his head up just in time to see the birds fly off at your little screech. “I’m just not being found.” You let out small harrumphs as you tried to step your leg onto the nearest branch.

The small leaves at the end of the branch rustled as your weight was added. “Ah, how did—?”

Kiyoomi watched your head swivel wildly as you look for your next step. “How did you even climb up there?” Setting down the clippers he came to stand beneath you.

“I,” your bottom lip jutted out, and your brows pinched, “I don’t know! Help me!”

The curly-haired boy sighed into his mask, before pulling it beneath his chin. The pollen, though bothersome, could be dealt with easily. He reached his arms up as high as he was able. “Jump.”

“Jump? That’s scary.” You hugged the tree trunk a little tighter. The bark scratched the expensive material of your sleeves. Looking closer, Kiyoomi could see little tears and stains everywhere.

He sighed. “You don’t have to be afraid of falling.” Seeing you hesitate, he turned to the rose bush, snipping the stems of one of the flowers. Breaking off the thorns, he raised his arm to present you with the bright red rose. “I’ll even give you this flower when you jump down. Don't worry, I’ll be here to catch you.”

“Will you? Forever?” Your hands shifted to let you sit on the shaky branch.

“Forever. Now jump.” 

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

“Now, unlike the king and queen, your position doesn’t hold any power in the legal sense. Many people look your way for social etiquette, fashion, and overall trends,” your tutor drawled on, scratching a small piece of chalk against the dusty mobile blackboard. 

The palm of your hand felt warm and plush against your cheek, but the wood table underneath your elbow was not. Your eyes wandered over the tall book filled wall of the library and the ornate carvings on every available surface. The lateral light bathed every detail in a cool glow. An armless statue peaked over your teacher’s board, glaring. You were about to pay attention when a soft rolling sound hit the back of your head and echoed through the giant library. You turned.

Kiyoomi, your ever stoic personal butler, silently wiped down the surfaces of shelves and the covers of books while standing perfectly straight on an inclined rolling ladder. You pinched your lips between your teeth, trying to stop the pointed smile that was inching its way onto your face.

You spun in your seat. “Now, as you turn 19 your participation in such events will skyrocket—” You pressed your left hand into the centre spine of your book, then took your right to pinch the corner of the page. Silently, as your teacher’s back was turned, you ripped the page out. Jotting a quick note onto the lines of the page, you eagerly crumpled the sheet into a ball and turned. 

Pulling your good arm back, you send the paper ball through the air and into the back of Kiyoomi’s head. 

Kiyoomi, raised in the family that had been by yours for generations, had taken up the very position his parents had been in for decades prior. While his father remained the best friend and right-hand butler to the king, and his mother the same for the queen, Kiyoomi had taken his position by your side. He was the one put in charge of cleaning up your messes and mistakes, all while suffering through the spring as his allergies began to pick up with dust and pollen flying around. 

His diligence to his job sometimes pulled him out of focus, eyes and mind frozen on the task at hand until there wasn’t a speck of dirt to be seen. It left him forgetting that, while he always had a job to do wherever he went, he was always in your presence.

The ball of crumpled paper never made contact with the skin on the back of his head. Instead, bouncing off his dark, cheek length, curls and hitting the floor beneath his feet. He blinked for a moment. When he turned his head around to find the source of the paper ball, he was immediately swept up like a relaxed dust bunny under a bed at the sight of your conniving smirk directed his way. 

Your hand flicked and brows raised in a pissy manner, gesturing to the white ball on the floor. 

You watched attentively as Kiyoomi stepped down from the ladder and picked up the balled paper. Your heart rate picked up as he stood straight, and you smiled. 

“Now, what I’m drawing here is the formal wear that you’ll be expected to wear—”

He tossed it into the trash.

You gasped.

“Yes, very exciting. Beautifully crafted.”

You spun around again, repeating the process, and tossing the paper back Kiyoomi’s way. You could hear him grumble before tossing your second note into the trash.

Again, and again, he never read the damn notes. You threw another one just as he was turning around. It crunched a bit as his fingers curled around it.

“Always introduce yourself to the host—”

He threw it. You ducked, and it hit the chalkboard, right where your old teacher’s hand was about to write.

“(Y/N), balls don’t actually have balls in them, not even paper ones. Please, pay attention.” 

Your shoulders hiked up as you took in a breath to protest. Only to be met with a light smack at the back of your head.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Kiyoomi sneezed into his mask as he worked on the rose bushes.

“We can go inside, I just wanted to get some sun for a bit, so if your allergies are picking up—”

“It’s fine, I got work to do anyway.”

You huffed, kicking your shoe along the surface of the grass as you hobbled over to the blooming cherry blossom tree. You jumped up to grab a hold of its lowest branch, swinging gently.

The calm wind felt nice washing over the layers of your clothes. You listened to the little petals rustle above your head as you watched the butler delicately pluck away stray leaves. The navy colour of his uniform stood out in the sunlight. He glanced over his shoulder, catching you staring briefly before you turned your head away.

“Hmm, want to go into town later?”

“You're not allowed outside of the palace grounds right now.”

“When have rules ever stopped me?”

“Evidently, less than they should.” He paused for a moment, letting his arms fall from clipping and turning your way. “Do you ever plan to get serious? Actually fit the role of a royal.”

You let go of the thick branch, falling onto your feet and hissing as the small scrapes in your palms. “Well ya, of course.” He watched your playful smirk drop, making his stomach sink with it. “But look at us Yoomi. Someone’s gotta try and have fun while we can. You’re always trying to take care of my messes.”

“If you stopped making messes we could have fun.”

You didn’t respond, causing Kiyoomi to look away from the view of the gardens. Head tilted down and sideways against the tree’s trunk, your eyes drooped, staring at the grass beneath your feet. “I just—”

“Your Highness!”

Your head turned, shooting up to find the maid that was carrying the weight of her skirt as she ran. 

“Your Highness, the King wishes to speak with you.”

Kiyoomi watched your lips purse, annoyed at being interrupted before your expression completely changed to a kind one. You looked his way, giving a slight nod as you pushed yourself off the tree and padded dirt off your garment. “I best be going then. Thank you, Lydia.”

Lydia panted, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

“Any idea what it may be about?” he asked.

Idle gossip, though looked down upon, typically came from truths and kept the staff informed on what to be mentally prepared for.

The maid sucked in a large helping of air. “Not too sure, but my guess would be a ball.”

“A ball?” A wave of nerves tickled the back of Kiyoomi’s neck. For what? He wasn’t sure.

“Well yes, it’s common to hold an event for the 19th birthday for a member of the royal family.” She paused, sucking in more air.

“Ah, that—”

“Got to find a suitable spouse, of course.”

The tingles on his neck fizzed out, sending a cold wave of discomfort through his body. He choked on his sentence, coughing harshly.

“Is the allergy acting up? Might want to put your mask back on.”

Through his fit of coughs, he brushed his hair back while pulling the mask over his nose. Between the sharp exhales, he managed to choke out a couple of words.

“Damn it.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Dinner was quiet. On a large, elongated table, the three royals sat far apart. King (L/N), took his place at the head of the table, on a large seat with an ornate backrest with blood-red fabric and gold detailing. The queen, almost oblivious to the tension carried on eating at the opposite end of the table, on her own special chair.

Kiyoomi stood against the wall behind your small decorative chair, watching as you slowly picked at the food in front of you. An unsettling feeling made a home in his stomach. He sent side glances to his parents, who took position behind their respective royal. They looked concerned but not confused. They knew. His father bit his lip slightly when Kiyoomi made eye contact with him. 

Taking in a deep breath, he turned back to studying your hunched posture, watching your decorated fingers reach blindly for your glass. Likely some sort of tea.

“(Y/N).”

You jumped, your hand pulling back too quickly and effectively spilling your drink all over your fresh pair of dress pants. “Shit!”

“Language,” your mother laughed.

Kiyoomi rushed to your side, towel-cloth in hand. Taking a knee beside your chair, he began to pat against your soaked thigh with the towel, hoping to soak in as much of the spilled drink as possible. His focus wavered. Now closer, he could see your hands clench under the table. He frowned slightly.

Your closest hand reached for his under the table cloth and he moved to clean the floor next, pulling it onto your now dry knee. He looked up at you, hoping to get some sort of response to his silent question. 

You stared at his gloved hand in yours, watching how his long fingers completely enveloped your hand and covered the bulky rings you wore.

Kiyoomi was made to choke silently as you shifted to weave your fingers between his own, squeezing tightly. He was thankful to still be soaking up the liquid on the floor, worried that without his mask on that the adults in the room would take notice of the sudden heat in his cheeks.

“Sorry,” you knew he hated germs, but for the moment he couldn’t quite care. The warmth of your hand in his was enough to quell any germaphobic tendency. “But thanks.”

He squeezed your hand a little tighter, separating his lips to respond.

“(Y/N), we must speak of your birthday.”

Right, your birthday. The young Sakusa’s stomach dropped. Were you going to be put up for marriage? Buy yourself a spouse, or worse be bought as one? His heart rate picked up.

_ Shit, shit, shit.  _

He wanted to say something to you, but it wasn’t his place. Standing to his feet, he brushed his thumb along the back of yours, ready to separate your hands. You reciprocated the movement but quickly held his hand tighter.

He froze, holding his position on the floor next to your chair. Setting the towel down for a moment he held your hand between his, then let go. Kiyoomi grabbed the towel, stood up, and began soaking up the tea from the tablecloth. 

“We, of course, will be holding a ball. And On top of celebrating your birthday, we hope that you’ll be able to find a partner among the guests.”

A jolt shot up Kiyoomi’s spine. Not just from the sudden confirmation of the rumours, but also the light pull on his pants as you took hold of the fabric behind his knee, pinching it desperately. He searched your face for an emotion other than desperation. Not saying a word, he straightened his knee against your fingers, permitting you to hold a little tighter.

Your mother spoke up, “We wanted your input on the theme and such, it is your birthday,” she emphasized the word sending a poignant look towards your father, “after all.”

The palm of your hand pressed against his knee for a moment. Fingers pushing through the slick fabric to squeeze his skin gently. He finished soaking up the tea quickly, having to leave your side and face your parent’s questioning gazes alone. He stepped back, making your hand drop. You paused for a moment, taking in a slow breath.

Once back in his position against the wall, one of the working maids rushed over, swapping his damp cloth for a clean one, before running back into the kitchen. His parent’s concerned gazes continued.

“How about a masquerade? And maybe theme it like a night under the stars?” Your hands, now separated from your usual companion, ringed together anxiously. Your teeth felt sharp against the inside of your cheek. “But does it really have to be some sort of spousal search? Is me getting married that big of a deal right now? I’m barely 19 yet.”

“Your father and I started courting at 18, and Kiyoomi’s parents it was 20, isn't that right Ichika?”

Kiyoomi’s mother hummed, “Ya that’s about right.”

_ Not helping, mother. _

The queen spoke up again, “are you sure you want a masquerade? How will you know what people look like?”

You paused for a moment, fiddling with your favourite silver ring out of the gaudy bunch that were given to you by your parents. The simple band spun around your finger. A gift from Ichika on your last birthday. 

“The anonymity will help me get to know their personality rather than just judge based on their appearance, no?”

The king hummed, “Not a bad idea, but if that’s the purpose, you better find a suitable partner among them.”

Your heart felt heavy. “Yes, of course.”

“Ooh!” your mother sat straight in her seat. Nearly bounding. “How about a three-day event?”

You looked horrified. You felt it too. “Three days? Mom, that’s—”

“Wonderful idea! That’ll be enough time for you to find a spouse. I’ll go write the letters.”

“Wait but—”

Mr. Sakusa followed him out the door with a surprised look.

“I’ll go figure out decorations! Ichika, your assistance please?”

“Of course.”

You were left standing in front of your chair, mouth open like a fish waiting for food. Your hands shook mid-air. “What just happened?” You turned to face your personal butler.

Kiyoomi looked just as frazzled, shrugging at you.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Kiyoomi switched the fitted sheets as you sat on the windowsill of your room. The moon was half full and letting off a dim blue light. You fiddled with the solid band on your finger while studying the stars.

Kiyoomi had finished fluffing the last pillow when you finally spoke up. “We never did get to go visit the town.” 

Standing straighter, he walked to your side and wiped the empty surface of the window sill before sitting down in front of you. “I suppose we didn’t.”

Keeping your head in the same position, you flicked your gaze over to the older man. The blue light made the highlights of his hair look purple. It sharpened his cheekbones and made his old butler’s uniform his regal. The two moles above his right brow pulled your attention back to his eyes.

“Will we be able to?” You looked up again, not seeing his head shift your way.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, forget my birthday ball. I want to be able to have fun, run around and be free. I want to spend more time with you.”

“You already spend all your time with me.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the moonlight or just his imagination, but he could see tears begin to build up in your eyes. You sniffed, meeting his eyes. “I want to keep it that way.”

You listened to the fabric of Kiyoomi’s pants slide against the surface of your windowsill. Watching as he reached to hold your hand, he sucked in a deep breath, chest expanding and pushing against the tight fabric of his vest.

“Forever, right?”

“Yes, forever.” His thumb ran over your rings, settling onto the flat band his mother gave you.

“Even if I get married?”

The cogs turned in his head, imagining up hundreds of scenarios at once, trying to paint the most ideal outcome. He breathed again, nearly choking on the dust that flew around your room. One second, and another. You waited desperately for his response.

“Especially if you get married.”

A knock broke out at the door, “Incoming!”

Kiyoomi strategically rose to his feet dropping your hand quickly despite the fleeting tug you gave his fingers. He heard you sniff again, and wipe your tears away, not that they’d be visible in the dark.

The queen and her best friend. “Ah Kiyoomi, you are here. Could you help Ichika with decorations and accessories?”

Kiyoomi nodded, quickly heading for the door to leave with his mother. 

“Accessories?” You moved to stand, only to be shushed down by your mother.

“For the staff, of course.” She sent a wink Ichika’s way. Before the maid closed the door. she gave a nod and smile.

“You’re really going in on the masquerade thing, huh?”

The two of you sat alone, bathed in moonlight.

“I think it’ll be a great opportunity.” She patted your shoulder. “Alright, you should sleep. I got work to do.”

“What kind of work.” You stood up with her, pacing to your bed as she went for the door.

“Oh, just something. Rest up!”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Tailors had woken you up, knocking loudly against your bedroom door. They barged in, pulled you out from out of your covers while you were in a groggy state and had you stand.

Your mother came in a bit later, a new fancy dress hanging off her shoulders.

You yawned. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Well, all the guests are arriving tomorrow and we need your clothes done.”

One of the tailors put the end of the measuring tape to your waist, pulling it down to your ankle and calling out a number to the one with a pen and clipboard in hand.

“Shouldn’t clothes be made ahead of time? Not the day before guests arrive.” You yawned again, looking around the busy room as you tried to find a missing body among them. “Here’s Yoomi?”

“Ah, Yoomi? He’s, uh, helping Ichika and Daiki with organizing everything. They’ve got a lot on their plates, you know. Speaking off, I should go check up on the progress.” 

You sighed as the head tailor lifted your arm up.

Later on, once you finally managed to escape fittings, you ran down to the main ballroom where most of the castle’s staff had been. The ornate chandelier had strings of sparkling lights meticulously streaming off it to tie to the walls. The typically red curtains had been swapped out with midnight blue ones, tied back to let the natural light in, and later give a view of the stars.

You found Ichika in the centre, clipboard in hand as she directed the positioning of tables around the back wall.

“Ichika!” You ran over, nearly tripping over unhung decorations. “Have you seen Yoomi? He wasn’t here when I woke up this morning.”

“Ah, Kiyoomi? I have him helping pick out plates and utensils as Daiki is organizing the menu.”

You gasped out a thank you, before sprinting towards the kitchens. You passed by various staff on the way there, doing your best to weave through them as you ran through the hall. A trip happened here or there, but you managed to get to the kitchens without a catastrophe occurring.

Cooks ran around the kitchen, various samples in hand.

“Yoomi!”

He stood at the other end of the room, sleeves rolled up as he inspected the beautifully handcrafted plates in front of him. 

Despite the lack of breath, you ran again.

“Yoo—ACK!”

You liked tea, you did. Especially on a cold day, where you could sit in the library and read while Kiyoomi took a break and sat with you. A book with a wandering knight with the power of the moon, any book. Lemon, chamomile, all the soft flavours that were never too harsh for your throat.

You loved tea, just not on your body.

“Hot, hot, hot.”   


The cook was quick to calmly apologize, brushing his dark silver bangs off his forehead as he handed you a towel to dry your chest with. It wasn’t his fault, not that he seemed all that worried.

“You clumsy fool.” The wavy-haired butler had come to your side before you even noticed. He took the towel out of your hand and began slowly dabbing at your collarbone, leaving you standing awkwardly with a racing heart (Likely from all the running). “It doesn’t burn does it?”

“Only as much as hot water. Just got shocked.”

“Good.” He pulled the towel back, examining the stain. “You should go change, that shirt should get washed.”

“But I ran all the way down here to spend time with you. I’ve been locked up in my room all day,” you whined pitifully, stomping your heel against the tiled floor.

He didn’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to look at the shuffling feet of the nearest chook as they fed his father samples of the proposed meals. “It’s alright, we’ll have time to hang out later.”

Hands on your shoulders, he began walking you towards the kitchen doors. He held you facing forward when you tried to turn around.

“But the guests will be arriving—”

“Later.”

The door closed on your nose, leaving you in the silent hallway alone. You clicked your tongue, looking down at your feet and pressing your head against the door.

“Damn it.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

"Mom, why do I have to wear a mask? They already know it's us," You huffed, adjusting the stiff costume piece on your face.

"For aesthetic purposes. You're the one that wanted a masquerade remember? Now hush, the last family is coming in," she said as he lightly smacked your hands away from your face. "And keep it on."

"But—"

She interrupted. Making your father chuckle next to you.

“Ah, hello, hello. I see you have your masks on! Did the guards treat you nicely?” Your mother cheered, inviting the incoming guests with open arms.

The next royal family that walked through the door wore masks with warm colours, complimenting their blonde hair. You didn’t recognize them with the accessory covering their faces. Standing just a bit shorter than you, the daughter wore a salmon coloured dress to match her mask. Her heels seemed to throw her balance off. 

They were the last family to approach you after all the guests had arrived, and although it was a masquerade, it’s hard to not notice the most overdressed royals in the room. Your father, especially, as he boated a thick blood-red cape that dragged across the floor

You gave the princess a grin and offered her a hand as the four walked over to the food. 

She smiled broadly, maybe a bit nervous, before dragging you into the centre of the dancing pairs. Her short hair, braided on one side and pinned to her head, bounced slightly as you waltzed. 

You're not sure how long you had danced in total, having switched from one partner to the next with no break. You supposed it had to do with the fact that the ultimate goal of this event was to find you a partner. One other than for dancing.

After being whisked away from the blonde princess and into the arms of a flamboyant prince in teal, you were being passed around the guests like they were playing hot potato. Only the loser happened to be you as the balls of your feet began to ache. Now, with the pain becoming tiresome, you swayed limply in the arms of a dark brunette in a dark maroon suit with gold accents.

You looked over the prince’s shoulder, resting your chin on the soft velvet of his suit. He held you a bit tighter, successfully preventing you from falling or tripping on his toes. You watched the staff on hand as they moved gracefully among the guests, offering drinks and snacks away from the back tables. Kiyoomi wasn’t among them.

You sighed into your partner's neck.

“Is everything alright?” His voice was rather deep, harmonizing with the winding down music that the orchestra played. You stumbled onto his toe, he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Oh, yes, sorry about that. Thank you for the dance, but I best get something to eat.”

He bowed. “Of course,” he said, and then went on his merry way.

_ Finally.  _ Dancing with —for what you could only recognise as— strangers was tiring. And despite it being the majority of your job considering your position as a royal, you couldn’t help but want to limit your social circle to a chosen few. One, to be specific.

Your stomach rumbled as your eyes browsed over the staff. Sighing again at the lack of Kiyoomi in the room, you started walking towards the slowly disappearing food. Your gaze shifted. Despite the dark curtains being pulled open, it almost looked like they weren’t except for the fact that the stars were shining brightly in the sky. You continued to walk, not noticing the tail of one girl's skirt dragging across the floor.

“ACK—”

Something constricted around your wrist, holding your face a few feet above the floor.

“You’ve taken more than a few fumbles this evening. If you need a cane, I’d be honoured to offer my assistance.” The owner of the smooth voice pulled you to your feet, turning you to face him in the process. “Are you alright, Your Highness?”

His top eyelids hug over his iris’ slightly, making his already dark eyes seem darker. They reflected the ballroom’s lights like the stars outside. His mask, midnight blue like the curtains with light gold detailing around the rim and centre, looked like the night sky and covered all but his mouth and eyes. His dark hair was slicked back, looking neat and polished. The mask’s design carried out through his clothes, a three-piece suit with inner soft gold lining and detailing.

You let out a silent gasp at the moon and star cufflinks he wore.

“You were heading for the food right? Let me accompany you.” He offered you an elbow, letting you slip your arm through at your own accord.

His chivalry felt near fictional. With your eyes still zeroed in on his profile, your mind began to wander into the depths of stories you’ve read.

“You look like a prince.” The words seemed to slip out of you unconsciously.

“Aren’t all the guests here royals?” He smirked, giving a side-eye glance to all the other people in the room.

You laughed lightly, embarrassed by your own mistake. He grinned with you. “You’re right. I just, I don’t think anyone looks as fantastical as you do.”

“Fantastical?” He grabbed a small plate from the table, using the tongs to place various treats on it and handing the plate to you. He didn’t seem to think about which ones you’d like, not that he had to, they were all your favourite. He reached for his own as you took a bit out of a small pastry. “Have you been reading too many fantasy novels?” 

A knight? The memory of a dark cloaked saviour in the dead of night popped into your brain. You chuckled. “Possibly.” You faced the large crowd again, searching.

“Looking for something?” 

“Huh,” you blanked. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a bit tired. I’m never around so many people at once.”

Plate in hand, he stood straighter offering his arm again. “Would you like to step outside? I saw a nice place to sit in the gardens.” He saw your hesitant glance at the crowd. “They won’t even notice you’re gone, and if you’re worried about me, there are guards at every corner. I wouldn’t dare harm you, Your Highness.”

Though trying to weave through the crowd was difficult, the fresh cool air that rushed into your lungs once you made it outside was worth it. The prince guided you to a bench in the centre of the circular rose-bush, nodding politely at guards as you walked by. You laughed happily as the cherry blossoms went over your head.

You sat down on the bench, stretching your tired legs and back. Standing, and dancing, for hours on end did a number on you, him as well. That masked prince’s clothes blended nicely with the surroundings, looking like a piece of the night sky had fallen to keep you company.

He stretched, raising one arm above his head while the other continued to carry his plate, before taking a seat beside you.

“It’s a lovely garden,” he hummed, watching you take a bit from the plate of food in your hand.

You chewed quickly before swallowing, licking your lip to get rid of leftover crumbs. “It’s one of my favourite places in the castle, along with the library. I spend so much time here my friend has taken it upon himself to keep the rose bushing in top shape. It’s not even his job.”

“Your friend?” he prompted. The gentle tone of his voice told you that he wanted to listen.

A slow sigh rolled off your shoulders. “My butler. Haven’t had the chance to make many other friends than him. He's always by my side.”

“You seem to enjoy his company at least.”

You laughed. “I do. Can’t throw away my only friend, and he can’t escape me either; it’s his job.”

The prince let out a sharp laugh, a bit louder than you expected. The embarrassed look in his eye from making such a loud sound made you laugh along with him.

He took a deep breath, leaning against the bench’s back-rest and throwing his head back. “I have a friend like that.”

“Really?” You rested your arm against the back of the bench, holding your head up as you studied the prince’s mask and listened.

He hummed. “Growing up isolated in a castle isn’t fun, but having someone there for you makes it better. Even if it wasn’t their choice.”

“I guess all royals have some similar experiences huh.”

“I suppose, but we all have slightly different expectations and backgrounds, live in different cities and towns. Each is unique in their own way.”

“What's your town like?”

He turned his head your way, mouth open. His eyes flicked to look up at the cherry blossoms, before coming down to meet your eyes. You didn’t realize how close you had been sitting.

Your propped up elbow rested nearly behind his relaxed head, and his shoulder pressed into your arm. He maintained eye contact as he sat up, taking your plate in his hand and setting them both on the end of the bench. He blinked slowly.

“I— I don’t really know. Thinking about it now, it seems that I’ve only ever gone through but never to visit.” He laughed at himself.

Pinching your brow, you jumped to your feet. “Let’s go.” You held your hand out to the prince, beckoning him to his feet.

“Go where? Aren’t you tired?”

“Yes, tired of not having fun. I’ve been wanting to go into town with Yoomi for days but haven’t had the chance.”

He placed his hand in yours, allowing you to tuck him onto his feet. “Are you sure—”

“Your Highness.” Lydia stood and the opening of the rose bushes, hands held together. “The guests are heading to their rooms. Your parents are requesting your presence.” She gave the prince next to a confused look. “You best head inside.”

“Ah, wait, Lydia.” You stepped her way slightly. “Have you seen Kiyoomi today?”

Her eyes flickered, and her brow pinched together. “Sorry, I can’t say I have.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly. “Ah, it’s alright. I’ll be in soon.” 

As the maid left, spun on your heel. A rose was presented to you and the hand holding it was attached to the night prince. The view of him in his dark suit surrounded by a giant bouquet of pink was an image that would be ingrained in your mind forever.

He spoke calmly, a joking undertone pushing through. “I hope I don’t have to vie for attention over this Kiyoomi fellow you keep speaking of?”

“Well, he’s definitely not going to like you picking the roses, that’s for sure.”

The prince laughed, coming up from his gentle bow to place the thornless rose in your hand. He smirked beneath the nose of his mask. “I'm trying to woo his friend here. I’m sure he won’t mind.” He then reached for your empty hand, placing it on his elbow, and grabbing the stacked plates. “Let’s head back in.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You had been spending a lot of time on your windowsill as of late, staring at the moon as it slowly becomes whole. You sat and stared, arms around your knees, as you slumped against the glass. Waiting.

It was long past midnight when you finally decided to return to your bed for some rest. The door opened when you stepped onto your feet.

Your heart swelled.

“Where have you been?” You ran to the door, wide eyed, as you held the curly-haired butler by the shoulders. His uniform matched those of the rest of the staff, new and crisp with celestial accents. “I wanted to spend time with you, but you weren’t there.”

As he spoke, you wiped off a pink stain from his white collar. “Icing, I was working in the kitchen?”

“You can't cook.”

“But I can bake.”

“Right. I’m still mad at you though, I was alone!”

“Really?” He walked over to your clothes that you had hooked onto the wardrobe. He draped the fancy clothing over his arm before walking to the door again. “I heard from Lydia that you snuck off with a mysterious prince.” He smiled lightly, blinking as he met your eyes. “It’s late, get some rest.”

He spoke curtly, pulling the door.

Where was he going; tugging the door without a thought despite you desperately wanting him around. Your heart seized as your hand reached to try to catch the door before he left you in the cold room alone.

“But—”

The door shut.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Why your mother had chosen a lean fitted, sun orange garb for the second day of three, you weren’t sure. Already standing out amongst the other royals for being the host of the party, the vibrance of your clothes seemed near embarrassing. You couldn’t imagine being surrounded by so many people for another day, but it was too late to change plans.

You flicked the large handkerchief over your waiting for everyone to pile into the dining room. Staff had set up two extra tables for the number of guests, having you and your parents sit at the head of separate ones. You looked to the right and watched the king and queen speak happily with the guests sitting closest to them.

Each seat had a name card on them, guiding people to their assigned seats for the midday meal. You couldn’t read the names from your vantage point, but it wasn’t hard to tell that one was missing.

You looked over your shoulder, hoping to find Kiyoomi behind you, standing against the wall. You sighed at the empty space before waving one of the nearest butlers over. Guests continued to slowly find their chairs.

“Bellamy, is there a name tag missing here?”

The butler leaned down to hear your words over the crowd. He tilted his head, making the grey hairs on his head bounce slightly. “I was certain there was one earlier when we were setting the tables. Do you want me to look?”

“No, it’s alright, they’ll find their way here eventually.” He moved to stand straighter. “Oh, and Bellamy? Have you seen Kiyoomi at all today?”

The old man’s eyes widened and back straightened. “Ah, yes, he was helping lay out the cutlery earlier. I believe he and the other head’s are working in the kitchens. Do you want me to get him for you?”

You bit your lip, looking at the rings on your hand as you fiddled with the solid band. “It’s best not to interrupt him, he’s probably working hard. I’ll see him soon.”

“Not talking about me are you? Did I leave that good of an impression?” 

The night prince slid into the unlabeled seat, smiling kindly. He gave a nod to Bellamy. The tails of his coat flicked as he sat down. He wore all black with silver accents, fitting the midnight theme better than you did.

“I was asking about Kiyoomi,” you explained. “This is your seat?”

He grinned, showing off the pearly colour of his teeth in a sharp, thin line. “Trying to get a peek of my name were you, your Highness? That would defeat the purpose of a masquerade wouldn’t it?”

You shivered under his stare as he slid into the seat. “I’ll admit that not knowing your name is turning me into a cat, but I was more concerned about someone not finding their seat.”

“That curiosity will kill you.” You smirked at his anecdotal reply that finished off the little phrase as you reached for your glass of tea. “Besides, any seat next to yours is rightfully mine, so you don’t have to worry about me not finding it.”

You choked on the warm liquid as the plush chair next to you slid back. “Oh my, are you alright? I didn’t mean to frighten you.” It was the blonde princess from yesterday.

A hand held your chin, tilting your head over towards the masked prince. In his other hand held a handkerchief, dabbing the sides of your mouth and chin gently. He looked at the blonde. “Don’t worry princess, they’re just clumsy. Can’t take care of themselves.” His thumb rubbed your cheek before dropping both hands. 

Had Kiyoomi been around he would’ve done the job himself. Gentle brushes, making sure that you would be tidied up and presentable without irritating your skin. He would chuckle at your slip ups and laugh at you in a way that the other staff wouldn’t. Would’ve had be not been avoiding your presence like the plague.

Kiyoomi wasn’t here.

Your heart fluttered as you watched the prince's eyes glitter. Heat washed across your chest and rose to your cheeks. It nearly sent you into another coughing fit. 

Kiyoomi wasn’t, but the prince was.

“Oh thank goodness, I would’ve been killed for scaring a crowned royal to death.”

You finally stopped coughing as entrees were being placed in front of people. “I really don’t think—”

“It could happen! I’d be an outcast, a murderer to the nth degree!”

You laughed. “Princess, please. Just eat.”

As you reached for your fork, something landed on your knee underneath the table. You took a small bite of the prepped meal and lifted the table cloth as you listened to the other two royals talk.

“Have you ever visited the Bahamas, it’s quite lovely.”

The prince's closed hand rested on the orange fabric on your knee, thumb brushing gently. Giving you a side glance, he lifted his hand but kicked his foot out taking your ankle with it. 

Already flustered, you reached over to smack the back of your hand lightly against the prince’s shoulder. He gave you a kind smile in response.

“I can’t say I ever have. I don’t travel unless it’s work matters, and even then I’m typically held up in one building or another.”

Your leg used his ankle as a footrest. Furrowing your brow, you tried to take your leg back, only for the masked prince to place his other one on top of it. You were shackled to the man. You huffed slightly, leaning into the back of the chair as you tried to hide any darkness that had risen to your cheeks. “The most exploration I get is of the town. Like the prince said, even outside of our city, I’m typically restricted to where I can go. I always have Kiyoomi to keep me company though.”

The light on the prince's slicked-back hair glistened as he turned his shoulders more your way, mimicking a similar posture to that the pink princess (now in baby pink) took. “You speak very kindly of your butler. I don't think I’ve seen him around though. What’s he like?”

“Oh please tell.” The blonde smiled, light brown eyes shimmering.

“Huh, well he’s my closest friend of course. I don’t have many in the first place unless you consider the other royals we sometimes visit.” Hitoka and Wakatoshi came to mind suddenly, you haven’t seen either of them in years though. “Those connections aren’t as well built as I would like though. I’m not sure if they’d call me their friend.”

You could see the princess’ eyes darken underneath the cut out of her mask. “I’m sure they do, (Y/N).”

You forgot that the anonymity of the mask didn’t apply to you for a while. You gave her a genuine smile. “Thanks.” 

The hand was on your knee again, brushing it in a calm, soothing manner. You reached for the last bite off the plate, swallowing it down quickly. 

“Well anyways,” you continued, “Kiyoomi is calm, clean, very clean. He’s always by my side unless I don’t want him to be, which isn’t often. He takes care of me in a way my parents can’t since they have to work all the time. He used to read me stories from the library when I was young. I still use the same old chair.” 

You hummed happily and took a sip of your tea as the plates were exchanged for the next course. “I love him a lot.”

The meat looked lovely. You went in for a bite as the hand on your knee pressed into your skin a bit. “I better not have to fight for that affection,” the prince teased.

You only gave with a silent, non-committal, laugh.

After all the food had been eaten (staff taking the place of the full royals to help finish the untouched food) and none was left except for bones, The guests were free to roam and mingle around the castle grounds. Most took it as an opportunity to dance in the ballroom and network amongst the heads of states. Even with the masks, kings and queens could easily tell each other apart.

A hand held your arm back from joining your parents in talking to the blonde princess’ family. The kind smile the price gave you beneath his mask made your stomach flutter again. “You like the library right? Care to show me the best books?”

You tried to choke down an embarrassed yelp as his hand slid down to hold your own. “I’d love to.”

Taking one last second, you looked over your shoulder to the cleaning staff, hoping to find a wavy mop of black hair before you were stolen away.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

How this prince managed to take up a vast majority of your time thus far, you didn’t know. Maybe it was the dark hooded eyes that seemed to give people a death stare when they approached, or possibly the lips that seemed stuck in a permanent downturned position.

He seemed to assess the situation of the crowd around him, then turn his attention your way with a small smile. Each expression was minute, letting his posture and words speak for him.

He grabbed a wet wipe from off the librarian’s counter, wiping his hands down as he scoured through the library’s titles. “So, is there anything you’ve been wanting to read?”

“Me? I did finish a book recently but haven’t chosen a new one yet. Anything you recommended?”

He hummed, tilting his head at the book spines, before turning around and speed walking toward the fiction section of the library. It didn’t take long before he wiped his hands again and pulled out a green-covered book from the shelves.

“‘ _ Night Pirate’ _ . Have you read it?”

Standing in the centre of the tall, open room, hands clasped together, you shook your head. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

Coming to your side, he placed his open hand between your shoulder blades, turning you in the direction of the old chairs. He sat you down on the large, plush red one, the one you had claimed since you were little, and took his place in the matching dark green one to your right. The one Kiyoomi had started using once you were too big to share a single seat.

He got comfortable quickly, kicking up one ankle to rest on the opposite thigh. “‘ _ To the open waters of the great unknown, a pirate makes home among the fish and mermaids.’ _ ” He paused looking up from the first page. “Might as well get comfortable, the book is 500 pages long.”

You followed the suggestion, leaning your head back against the soft velvet backrest and studied the intricate details of his mask, and how his lips parted as he read each word. His hands looked large against the book, carrying it with one hand, no effort required. You noticed the small spots that decorated the back of his palm with a smile. He pinched the book’s read ribbon tucking it away as he continued. His voice, mellow and calm, reflected the atmosphere that the words in the book were trying to paint.

It was five, maybe six pages into the book before your eyes closed, and another three before you had fully dosed off.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You weren’t entirely sure of how you got to bed, but judging by the warm cup of tea and a new set of clothes for the last day, Kiyoomi had been there. You couldn’t let the warm feeling in your chest settle for long though, because within minutes the tea was gone, your outfit was on and you were rushing down to the banquet hall before the quests could beat you to it.

Today, the food was set up in the middle of the ballroom in a large circular table with a multi-layered cake in the centre of it all. The guests swarmed your and your parents as they waited for the knife in your hand to hit the bottom of the cake. Once it did, deafening cheers that made your shoulder’s scrunch, erupted throughout the castle.

Everyone got a slice, you even managed to get a piece for Ichika and Daiki, ensuring that they each got a bit of galaxy coloured icing and fondant stars. 

“Do you like the design? Kiyoomi thought of it, though Osamu did help bake it,” Ichika said.

You looked to the slowly disappearing desert, admiring what was left of the black, blue, purple, and pink layers that got lighter as they reached the top with small star-like details. 

“He knew you wouldn’t want anything too extraordinary. I better save him a piece of his hard work.”

You felt something tap your red-clothed shoulder. “Excuse me, you two, but I hope you don’t mind me stealing (Y/N) away for a bit do you?” You looked to the masked prince, who now wore a dark forest green suit with gold accents. The mask remained the same shape but had a chain hanging from the edge near his right eye down to the right point of the mask near his chin.

Butterflies were already fluttering in your stomach.

Ichika gave the prince a wide smile, elbowing her husband. “Of course, of course. We don’t mind.”

Twisting his feet to point your way, he offered his hooked elbow and waited for your silent permission to escort you away.

“What are you planning?”

“Hmm, not much, a small trip.” His eyes shifted your way as he kept his head angled forward toward the castle's nearest exit. “I heard that the town is having fireworks for your birthday tonight. You’ve been wanting to go, right?”

“Well, yes but— How did you know about that? I haven’t heard anything.”

The corners of his mouth flicked up. “The staff like to talk.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

So there you were, with the princely stranger in dark clothes at your favourite cafe in town, definitely sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs. The obnoxious laughing pouring out of you didn’t help keep eyes off, either.

“What do you mean you bleached the crown?!”

“It was a mistake! Luckily, it wasn’t the real one or else my father would’ve sent me to France to be beheaded,” he sighed, and then noticed your raised brow and slow bite into the puffed sugar cloud with a hard shell. It crackled under the pressure of your teeth. 

“We— well,” he stuttered, “What happened was, I was helping clean the crown case, and the crown gets swapped out with a duplicate so it can get polished. And I accidentally got bleach on the velvet portion.”

He shut his eyes as if replaying the memory, wincing at your laughter. “I knew you’d find that funny.”

“Of course I would, you seem so put together it’s hard to believe you’d make a mistake.”

“I hope that means I’ve made a good impression thus far.” He leaned forward, setting his crossed arms on the table and letting his elbows carry his weight.

You mimicked the movement, letting your chin rest in the palm of one of your hands. You wore a squinted smile. “Not like you would let me get much of an impression about anybody else.”

“Not my fault. No one else was trying hard enough.”

You laughed through your nose as you drank the last few drops of tea. The cup didn’t make a noise as it hit the table again. The waitress, who had been watching idly from behind the counter, rushed over to bring the check and collect the dishes. Her dark hair swished over her shoulder fluidly. You saw her every time you visited.

“Thank you.”

"The sun is going to set," the unnamed prince spoke as he set a bill on the table. "How about we walk through town and look at the shops before the fireworks start."

Your cheeks hurt a bit from smiling. "Sure."

He offered an open hand to you as you got to your feet. Wiping your hands on your legs first, you graciously took his open palm. Pulling you to his side, the prince led you to the cafe's exit waving at the workers as he did.

“Hmm, How about— Woah!”

You pulled his hand, dragging him towards the slowly moving crowd that grouped around the various shops. His hand shifted in yours, twisting so he could fiddle with the ring on your hand with his thumb.

“Your Highness, if you wanted to steal me away, you could've just asked. Of course, I’d have to tell my parents first—”

“That wouldn’t be stealing,” you snorted, dropping his hand. 

You stopped at an accessory store browsing over all the little pieces of jewelry that sat on display, glittering in what was left of the available sunlight.

You jumped as the light near your head flickered on. Hand on your stomach, you played it off by looking for the masked prince among the crowd. Two young boys giggled behind you, running off when you glared their way.

You eventually caught sight of the midnight prince bowing his head to a blonde man who had his hair brushed back and a cigarette balancing on his lip. He appeared to be the shop owner. Soon after he began walking your way, bare hands tucked into his suit pockets. He nudged your side. “Come on, the fireworks will begin soon.”

Slinging your elbow around his, you followed. “What do you do in your typical day anyway?”

He started walking towards the large fountain in the centre of the pavilion. “I typically help the staff where I can. Don’t have many responsibilities as of yet.”

You looked up to the gold chain on his mask, hypnotized by its swaying movement. “As of yet? How old ar—ACK!” The tip of your shoe slammed into a lifted brick, flinging you forward.

“Clumsy, clumsy. Watch where you step, or I'm gonna have a lot of cleaning to do.” 

Your trip luckily didn’t end with your head slamming into the edge of the fountain. Which made you breathe a sigh of relief (wouldn’t be the first time it happened). With his elbow still locked around yours, and hand securely tucked into his pocket, the prince had managed to catch your arms between his and his side before you dove into the concrete.

You huffed, taking your arm back and sitting on the fountain’s ledge. “So, how old are you anyway? I never asked.”

He sat next to you as the first —test— firework went off. “Hmm, 21.”

You hummed. “That makes sense, I would’ve been too young to go to your party. I’m glad that you didn’t find a partner I suppose.”

“My parents are rather lenient. I didn’t want to find someone immediately anyways.”

“I can’t say I did either.”

Two pops went off in the air, pulling your attention to the dark sky. The lights flickered, falling as they did before burning out. The burnt-out fireworks were quickly followed by a slew of others.

“I got you this. From the shop.” From his pocket, he pulled out a small box and flipped it open to present it to you. A muted gold band sat in the slit of the velvet cushion.

“Proposing already? I didn’t think you were so forward.”

Even with the ornate mask on his face, you could see him falter. Eyes darting around as he puffed out some hot air. “Think of it as an offer. Who knows, you might regret it later if you fall in headfirst.”

Your heart felt like it was tearing in two, competing on different teams. But when you met the prince’s hesitant eyes that darted back and forth between your own, it felt like the two sides were coming to an agreement. Your whole body scorched.

The feelings you had would always be there, but what could Kiyoomi do if he wasn't around to reciprocate them, and would your heart be able to take it?

You flushed, staring more intently into the prince’s dark eyes. “I think I've done enough falling as it is.”

Looking at your fingers, you paused, thinking, before pulling the ring out of the box and exchanging it for your beloved gift from Ichika. With no warning, you grabbed the prince’s bare hand and slipped the warm metal onto his ring finger. It stuck at the knuckle for a moment before sliding down to the base. 

You analyzed the hand that now wore your favourite ring. Holding it delicately, you slid your fingers over the few small dark specials that decorated the back of his hand.

_ No going back now. _

“Well, at least it won’t fall off. Don’t lose it okay, that ring is dear to me.” You looked up to his face, watching as the bright fireworks brought out the green of his mask, and saturated his straight slicked-back black hair with shifting iridescence. 

“Does that make me dear to you, as well?”

The fireworks were loud, but your heart was louder. And all you could remember from those few fleeting seconds were the smell of clean clothes and mint toothpaste as your eyes stared into the bleak darkness of your eyelids and the feeling of his lips pressed oh so gently into yours.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Kiyoomi tirelessly worked on the final meal for the departing guests. His shoulders ached as he worked his hands into the bread dough, trying hard not to let any sweat fall off his nose. His curls bounced with each push. He grunted as he flipped the dough over, before yawning.

“Woah there, little Sakusa, what got you all worked up?”

The butler huffed, picking up the large pound of dough and tossing it into the oven. Once the oven started cooking, he made his way over to the sinks, desperately hoping to scrub away the remnants that stuck to his skin.

“Nothing, Bellamy, just trying to get all the bread ready before the guests wake up.”

Daiki entered the kitchen patting down the sides of his suit jacket. “Is there a loaf good to go? The family is awake.”

Kiyoomi cursed quietly, throwing on his signature white cloth gloves and grabbing three plates. Lifting his mask over his nose, he began cutting into one of the loaves.

His father’s brow furrowed as he watched his son rush to cut the bread. He went to collect the condiments from the fridge. “You okay there? You seem a bit stressed.”

“I’m fine, just didn’t sleep until late last night.”

Daiki slathered a large clump of peanut butter on a slice of bread, prepping it for the king’s stomach. 

“Hmm, no sleep? I wonder why that is,” Ichika said in a reading manner, walking in with one of the finished loaves in her gloved hands.

Kiyoomi’s head drooped, hair falling in front of his eyes. His straight arms pressed into the counter, causing his shoulder blades to jut out. Having his parents giggle behind his back, quite obviously, made the pit of anxiety that had been growing in his stomach collapse into a ravine. 

Ichika coughed slightly, transferring away from teasing her son. She reached for fruits to add to the plates. “Bellamy, gather the staff won't you? We need to deliver breakfast to the bedrooms.” She grabbed the plate with jammed covered toast before wrapping her arm around Daiki’s. “The three of us will bring breakfast to the family. Okay?”

“Of course, Mrs. Sakusa. Right away. Lydia, Osamu!”

Kiyoomi tightened the gloves around his fingers, pulling them tighter and keeping them secure. He took a slow breath, trying not to yawn as he did so, before grabbing your plate.

Kiyoomi had woken you up with his eyes squinted in a soft smile. Though you couldn’t see, you could easily picture the smile itself behind the white mask he wore over his mouth. Camomile tea in one hand, and fresh toast in the other, you walked down to the foyer of the castle to meet your parents with Kiyoomi yawning into his mask by your side.

“Tired?”

His eyes squinted in a relaxed smile again. “Ya, but this morning everything will be done, and I can rest.”

You hummed, swallowing your last bite of bread before taking a sip of tea. You began walking down the large steps that took you into the castle’s main entrance. “Why don’t we go to the library to read after they’ve all gone? There’s a book that I recently started, I can read it to you from the beginning.”

“Hmm? Sounds nice. What is it about?”

“A pirate? If I'm being honest I fell asleep, so I don’t remember a whole lot,” you laughed.

Your parents stood by the large double doors, guards on either side as they finished off their tea and handed the dishes off to Daiki and Ichika. “(Y/N) hurry down. The guests will be leaving soon.”

Kiyoomi stood behind you as you shook hands with the leaving guests, desperately wanting to wipe your hands clean between each interaction. He held himself back though, not wanting his germaphobic tendencies or possessiveness take over.

The queen’s head turned your way. “So, did anyone catch your eye?”

The question went unanswered as the last family came your way. You recognized the short dark-brown hair of the tall prince from the first night. He silently took your hand in his, letting out a deep hum as his chin hit the back of your knuckles. You heard your parents thank the father, and seemingly grandmother for visiting before they headed for the door. Guards opened it for them.

Kiyoomi rushed in front of you, taking your hands in his gloved ones and wiping them clean. Maybe he’s let them take over a little. You didn’t seem to notice though, too fixated on the memory of the unnamed prince.

“Was that the last family?” you asked, brows furrowed. 

Your parents' eyes widened. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Kiyoomi’s fingers tightened on yours. Unconsciously, you squeezed back. “There was one. A prince. He had slicked black straight hair. Wore navy colours with metal accents. His mask covered everything but his eyes and mouth.”

Your father hummed before calling for Daiki’s attention. Having been talking quietly to his wife, Daiki and Ichika both shot straight up as the royals turned their way. You sidestepped towards Daiki, letting Kiyoomi join the circle.

“How many guests were on the list.” Your father’s tone was heavy.

“80, your Majesty,” Daiki replied.

“And how many chairs were there total?”

Ichika spoke up, “84.” Her eyes flicked to your mother’s for a moment.

Your father hummed again before calling the nearest guard, a strong looking white-haired man and his red uniform. “Gather the knights, there will be a search for the intruder. And he will be punished for disturbing the safety and peace of the castle.”

You opened your mouth to protest, heart beating painfully at the thought of the man being in danger.

“No!” It was a chorus. It seemed you weren’t the only one. Everyone’s heads turned on swivels at the other’s outbursts.

A puff of hot air blew out of your father’s nose. “What's wrong with all of you? Why not?”

You took the chance to speak before the others could. “I spent plenty of time alone with the, uh, prince. If he wanted to harm me he very well could have.”

“Also,” your mother continued. “Wouldn’t sending out the knights be a bit much? I know they don’t have a lot to do, but that seems overboard.”

Daiki sighed. “Your Majesty. You could ask the guards on watch if anyone has left the grounds since last night. They might still be in the castle.”

The king's posture seemed to slouch. “But what about the knights?” He blinked for a moment before standing straight again. He called for the guard. “Find out if anyone has left since last night. If everyone is accounted for, send the knights through the castle, if not, they go on an expedition.”

The guard only hummed and nodded, before walking off.

Your chest hurt, squeezing tightly around nothing. It felt like you were going to vomit. You lifted your now mostly ringless hand to your mouth in a fist.

“I'm going to write letters to the families, best find out if they’ve seen anything. Daiki?”

The head butler nodded. “Kiyoomi, care to join us? We might need some help.” Daiki gave his son a pointed look and an urgent beckoning wave.

Kiyoomi placed a gloved hand on your back, pushing heat through the fabric of your clothes. He spoke quietly into your ear, dragging down his mask with a hooked finger. “I’ll find you later. Alright? We can read in the library as you said.” 

You looked into his eyes, watching how his lids relaxed, and ten the small pair of moles above his brow. You lowered your clenched hand away from your mouth and nodded.

His hand fell from your spine before he was off, following the fathers up the grand staircase and to the king’s study. Your stomach tightened a bit.

“Is that a new ring?” Your mother slid over with Ichika at her side.

The maid gave a teasing laugh. “I sure hope you didn’t toss my gift away.”

“I wouldn’t say toss.” A cold sweat ran down your neck. “You both seem very put together, aren’t you a bit scared over all this?”

“Not at all, I’m sure everything will be sorted out quickly. But isn’t it fun? It’s like you're experiencing your own fairy tale instead of one in those books.” Your mother teased, taking your hand with the simple gold band and lifting it to her face. She paused. “I don’t recognize this one.” 

“Oh! Did you?” Ichika bounced like a child despite her age. “Oh, you did, didn’t you?”

“Did what? OH!”

Sometimes you forgot that they were best friends. 

“You exchanged rings?!” they both cheered, giving you large smiles.

Your stomach sank more, thinking of how not only did you lose the mysterious prince, but your favourite ring as well. The tightness in your chest continued, and despite it still being the morning; “I’m gonna go lie down.”

You heard your mom chuckle as you tripped on the top step.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

You weren’t sure exactly what time it was or how long you had been in your room. But, after stomaching a couple of meals and sitting by the window with a blanket on your shoulders as the sun began to lower with a purple sky following, you could hazard a guess.

A knock vibrated your door. “I’m coming in.”

In a casual white shirt, instead of his authority screaming clothes, your father kept a neutral expression as he sat at the end of your bed. He weaved his fingers together and pushed his bottom lip up in a perturbed pout.

It was silent for a moment.

“So, did you finish the letters?”

“Hmm? Oh, ya. Ya, we did. Had to rewrite them all, but we finished them.”

You sat straighter. “Re-write? Why?”

He hummed shutting his eyes as if replaying a memory before looking up at the moon through the large window. He scratched his neck, mumbling quietly, “We found out who the prince was.”

“You did? Where—?” You nearly shot to your feet. Your heart pumped in your ears and hands began to clam up as they gripped the blanket. If they found out then he must be nearby.

“Calm down.” He clicked his tongue, moving his hand from the back of his neck to his forehead, rubbing away a dull headache. “No reason to get worked up about it right now. I still got to grill the guy.”

The growl that took over the end of his sentence was menacing, like a rabid wolf with a chunk of meat being teased in front of his snout. Your shoulders curled at the sound, imagining the fire that the prince would have to walk though under your fathers scrutiny.

“Please don’t.” If your father was that put out by the man’s identity, you couldn’t help but feel overly curious. Sometimes cats really do need to sedate their curiosity. 

Your father let out a deep chuckle before rising to his feet. He walked to your side and placed a large hand on your blanket-covered shoulder, patting it slightly. “There's no need to get worked up about it. Get some sleep; you’ve had a long few days.” 

As he walked to leave, you began to climb to your feet, following after. Something tickled the back of your brain at your fathers demeanor, but you hadn’t gotten any answers “Wait but—!”

“Get some rest, (Y/N).” He pulled the door a bit before pausing, giving you a tired and rugged smile. “You have nothing to worry about.”

The door closed behind him.

Despite everything that had happened, the three day party, your 19th birthday, a charming prince that had somehow swept you off your feet, all you wanted was to talk to your best friend. It felt like forever since you were last able to lean on his shoulder.

_ Maybe tomorrow _ . You looked at the gold band on your finger, heart swelling as your mind shifted. 

You’d search for your friend tomorrow.

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

Kiyoomi wasn’t there to wake you up the following morning. Only a cup of lemon tea sitting on a dust-free side table, and a clean poet shirt with black slacks, were left to prove his presence in your room at some point.

You yawned, stretching your arms as high as they could go before grabbing hold of the cup’s handle and taking a sip. The smell travelled up your nose.

You noticed that the sour feeling in your stomach had dissipated as you slipped the shirt on and started making your way down to the kitchens, cup in hand.

The wooden door to the cooking domain pushed open beneath your hand, suddenly revealing the same silver-headed chef you had run into a couple days earlier. He stepped backwards.

“Don’t worry, the cup is empty.”

“Not exactly what I was being cautious about, but good to know. Just didn’t want to be in your line of fire.”

You gasped, “Am I really that much of a hazard?”

He looked at the plated onigiri in his hands before holding one out for you. “More to yourself than to us. Want one?”

You huffed but took one anyway, biting into it immediately. Suddenly, out of your drowsy haze, you remembered your search. “Have you seen Yoomi around?”

The chef hummed, “This morning, but not since. Let me take your cup.”

You handed it over sadly, letting your shoulders droop at the news of your absent friend before stepping back into the hallway to begin your trek to the library.

Was he avoiding you? Running around and busying himself with work to keep himself away from your side? 

You paused in the large hallway with towering windows that overlooked the front garden. The sun was soft and warm, letting you easily look out the window without being blinded. Lydia stood out in the rose bushing with Bellamy, trimming the hedges and talking happily. The bench underneath the cherry blossoms held a pitcher of iced water and three glasses, both empty.

Did he know? He was with your father helping write the letters. Did he find out?

Your footsteps echoed through the empty wall as you continued your way down to the library.

You froze for a moment. Was he disappointed? Shaking your head, you quickened your pace.

The librarian just so happened to be stepping out as you got near, his light grey hair bouncing as he fiddled with the books in his hands. When he heard your heels hitting the floor he looked your way with a big smile. “Ah, your Highness, are you going in?”

“Sure am. May I ask where you’re heading?” You walked by him, through the doorway as he held it open for you.

“Oh, I'm joining Lydia and Bellamy in the garden.” He lifted the shoulder that was attached to the hand holding the small stack of books. “We plan to take a break and read in the sun.”

“Sounds lovely. Have fun.”

“You do too.” He winked before letting the door go and walking down the hall.

As the door closed behind you, your smile fell slightly and the sick feeling began to eat away at your stomach again.

From across the way, you could see the same green book from the second day of the event sitting on the coffee table in front of the two chairs. Its red ribbon poked out of the spine that became a bookmark as it hid between the pages.

Your steps echoed as you walked through the room, eyes trained on the novel that sat out of place.

Your fingers wrapped around the spine as you pushed your weight back to fall into your red seat. Kicking your legs up on one of the armrests, you twisted sideways to face the matching green chair and tilted your head to rest against the backrest. You opened the cover and began reading out loud to yourself from the first line.

“ _ To the open waters of the great unknown, a pirate makes home among the fish and mermaids. _ ”

You paused, stomach sinking as the sunlight lit up the view of the empty seat in front of you. 

The pages shook as you turned them, quivering lightly, sounding like a bird’s wings flapping. Even with the sun’s warmth pouring onto you through the skylight, it felt unbearably cold around you.

You eventually caught up to the marker, pausing as you held the ribbon between your thumb. Your mind wandered off the contents of the page in front of you to the mysterious man’s hand tucking it into the cover of the book.

Shutting your eyes for a moment, you shoved the ribbon back in place before flipping to the next page.

Only once the words stopped abruptly halfway through the page did you notice you had come to the end. Your mouth shut around the last syllable, swallowing the air as the story finished. Flipping the book in your hand to read the spine, you breathed slowly, readying yourself to rise to your feet and put the book away.

“You should read out loud more often, your voice is very soothing.”

The feeling that had dissipated in your stomach came back, shooting into your chest to make your heart race quicker. 

Frozen in place, you watched out of the corner of your eye as a freckled hand with your favourite ring adjourned on one finger came over your shoulder with a thornless rose balanced between two fingers.

“I’m sorry I haven't been around as of late.”

“Pri—” You swivelled in your seat, coming face to face with a familiar mask.

His arm now rested fully on your shoulder from the movement, giving you wide eyes beneath the crafted frame of green and gold. His hand lowered and arm moved, dropping the rose so it bounced off of your back and landed behind you, and came to rest on the back of your neck. The ring burned your skin. 

His breath was clean, warm against your cheeks. You bit your tongue as his other hand came to obstruct the view of his mask. Fingers gripping the top edge, he pulled the mask back, brushing over what you began to notice were loose wavy hairs. All the air in your lungs was stolen as you caught sight of two stacked moles through the moving eye socket of the mask.

You quickly raised your hand, brushing the pads of your fingers against the skin of his neck and weaving them through his shorter hairs. He breathed calmly as he pushed his forehead against yours. As he held the position you lifted your other hand to rest on the side of his neck, feeling his speeding pulse.

His moving hand dropped the mask, making it drop on the floor, and came to brush your side, gripping the flowy fabric of your poet's shirt between bare fingers.

Your stomach fluttered as his eyes closed and the tips of your noses touched. He hummed a happy sigh.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been rather absent the past few days.” You heard him kick the mask. “If you couldn’t tell already I was working two shifts at once.”

“Shut up. Yoomi.”

You pushed forward, lifting your knees onto the armrest and straightening up to get a higher vantage point, fingers pressing into his skin as you breathed against his lips. He held you tightly in return, pushing his chest into yours as his fingers danced along the centre line of your back. He pulled you closer, pushing your lips against his in a desperate manner.

The opposite side of the chair lifted, shooting your weight forward before falling back against the floor with a bang. You pulled away with a gasp, almost having fallen backwards if it weren’t for Kiyoomi’s arms gripping you tightly against his form.

“Clumsy aren’t you?” He smirked with half-lidded eyes.

You huffed through your nose, leaning toward his again. “I thought I told you to shut up.”

•──────⋅☼⋅──────•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest appearances (not just by name) by: Yachi, Oikawa, Ushijima, Osamu, Ukai, Kiyoko, Aone, Sugawara
> 
> …..So I did say I’d write a long one. I was originally only going to be around 4k words…. Then I had an idea and kept writing. Normally I would write faster but this one took three weeks total. I’m proud of it though.
> 
> Also makes me want to do a mini series in this same universe… Maybe. Not sure how I'd have to set that up.
> 
> I’m sorry for making you edit so much Kiwi. - Bacon
> 
> (Don’t worry about it! It’s amazing! - Kiwi)


End file.
